Exodus
by WTFdoUwantNOW
Summary: Sequel to Exile. Exodus -a journey to escape from a hostile environment. Daryl has left the group and plans to head north but first he goes looking for Merle. A betrayal brings new enemies against the group who want what the group has and will do anything to get it. Rated M for cussin', violence, gore, sexual situations, brain farts, nekkid moments. No Caryl. My summary sucks.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer- **I don't own Walking Dead or any of the characters, but I like to play with and torture them at times.

**Warnings-** Rated M for cussing, nakedness, violence, improper English usage

Welcome to the sequel to Exile. I hope you like it. Did you know that there really is a town called Woodbury in GA? It is just a bit south of Atlanta. How cool is that?

**Exodus** -a journey to escape from a hostile environment.

Two hours after leaving the lake house and its inhabitants behind, Daryl pulled over and studied his road map. He turned onto Rte 18 South in Griffin after consulting the map and he decided to take Rte 18 down to Woodbury where he would jump onto Rte 85. If he followed Rte 85 it was a straight shot right down to Fort Benning.

Of course, nothing ever goes as planned and about six miles from Woodbury an overpass clogged with several burned out cars and tractor trailers squashed his plans. Daryl cussed himself blue in the face as he was forced to turn around and backtrack to Flat Shoals Road and bypass Woodbury, picking up Rte 85 in Warm Springs. All that farting around to get around Woodbury cost him precious time and when he came upon the clogged up portion of Rte 85 just North of Midland, it was almost 3:00 in the afternoon.

He shut off the truck and stepped out of it, shouldering his crossbow before climbing up on top of the roof of the truck. Daryl shielded his eyes with his hand and looked down the road. The traffic jam wasn't too bad, but it was larger than the ones he'd had to clear by himself the day he had left the Greene farm and found the house by the lake. Of course, one of the jams had been impassable that day due to an overturned logging truck. In this case here, the vehicles clogging the roadway were all cars and pickup trucks, so this wouldn't be too awfully hard. He hoped it wouldn't be, anyway. He double checked his map for an alternative route. The only alternative would add at least another hundred miles to his planned route and there was no way in hell he was going to waste that kind of gas just to avoid a bit of hard work.

It was extremely hot and it wasn't long before Daryl was soaked with sweat. The heat coming off the pavement and the vehicles was close to unbearable but he sucked it up and continued to work on clearing the roadway. A couple of the vehicles had bodies in them and after opening the door and getting a good whiff of the vile, putrid smell inside one of these particular vehicles, Daryl found himself on his knees and clutching his stomach as he violently regurgitated his lunch.

Yes, he could skin and gut animals with the best of them and he was no stranger to incredibly offensive odors, but the smell of 'eau de liquified decayed human' was unlike anything else. It was so horridly disgusting that even the seasoned hunter was brought to his knees. "Holy fuck." he moaned as he clenched his stomach. "Think I'd rather stick my nose up a skunk's ass than to smell that." He gave himself a few minutes to let the wave of nausea pass before he got back to work.

After three hours of maneuvering vehicles to form a space wide enough to get his truck through, he took a break. He could feel the heat rising off his body and through his sweat drenched clothing.

"'S hotter 'an hell." Daryl mumbled as he cracked open a water jug. He drank deeply and then poured a bit of the water over his head and let it run down his back and chest. He closed his eyes and thought about the house and the people he had left behind. What had the group done about the Carol situation? Was she a danger to the rest of the group or was he her only target? He was sure he had been the topic of at least a couple of conversations earlier today, probably mainly about his lack of manners and what an unreliable asshole he was. He hadn't said "goodbye" to anyone and had just slipped away like the sneaky weasel that he was. He smiled to himself. He would have loved to have seen Maggie's face when she found the heart shaped stone an the flowers he had left her. He sighed at the thought of her. She really had become his best friend and he was going to miss her.

"Shoulda fucked 'er before ya left, dummy." Imaginary Merle snickered. "'Course, hindsight's always better 'n foresight, an' that gal, mmmmm hmmm..she had a real fine, firm hindsight, din't she baby bro?"

The memory of his hands on Maggie's fine ass caused Daryl to swallow hard, and then he pushed the memory away. He had work to do and dwelling on that highlight of his time at the lake house wasn't going to get the damned vehicles moved out of the roadway and might end up making him more uncomfortable than he already was. He wiped his brow and went back to work. By the time the sun had set, Daryl had moved eleven vehicles far enough apart to get his truck between them.

For dinner, he mixed up a quart of powdered milk and drank it and ate three bags of the beef jerky that Rick had so thoughtfully packed in a plastic shopping bag and left on the floor in front of the passenger seat for him. The bag was full of the packages of dried meat and Rick had stuck a note inside the bag on top of the packages that read, 'I heard you like this crap. Enjoy!' Beef jerky was a little slice of heaven as far as Daryl was concerned and he exerted an amazing amount of self control to keep himself from wolfing down more than just three bags of the stuff.

At about 9:00 pm he settled into the truck to try to get some sleep, curling up on the bench seat and hugging one down pillow to his chest while burying his head in another. He was glad that he'd pilfered the pillows when he left the house. He was sure that when he found Merle, (he wouldn't allow himself to think "if" now, it was always "when") Merle would have plenty to say about his big, soft pillows and what a pussy he was for taking them. Daryl snorted. He just bet that a day or two later good ol' Merle would be claiming one of those pillows as his own.

Daryl gazed at the stars through the windshield and shifted to try to get a little more comfortable. It wasn't happening. His muscles ached, his head ached and his right hand burned and throbbed where he had amputated his pinky finger. He considered taking a Tylenol with Codeine and mentally reprimanded himself. "Don't need no pain meds jes' for this. Suck it up an' stop bein' a wuss."

The night was hot and humid. Daryl's shirt was damp with sweat and it was sticking to his chest and his back. Finally it got to be too uncomfortable and he groaned and sat up. He peeled the damp shirt off over his head and threw it behind the seat. It was stifling hot in the cab of the truck. The windows were both down about an inch to let air circulate but the air outside was stagnant and heavy. Daryl didn't dare to put the windows down any further. He had always been a light sleeper and it used to be that the smallest sound or nearby movement would wake him. He could go from 'dead to the world' to 'wide awake' in a second which was a great survival tool. Unfortunately and much to his dismay, he had recently lost that ability. He suspected it was a side effect of being sedated so damned many times over the past couple of weeks and he hoped the loss of his ability wasn't permanent. Because he was such a sound sleeper now, Daryl was afraid that if he left the truck's windows down and a walker or two showed up, he wouldn't wake up until he was already being eaten.

He shifted again on the seat and for a minute he wondered what the hell he was doing there. Here he was, in the dark, by himself, stranded on the highway and trying to get comfortable on the bench seat of a truck when he could be sleeping in his own comfortable king sized bed beneath a ceiling fan in the safety of his own room. He smirked. It wasn't his room or his bed anymore, though, was it? No, he'd burned that bridge when he left the group early that morning. Daryl wondered who would end up with his bedroom suite. Would Rick and Lori take it? Would Dale? Would they draw straws or play poker for it?

"Welcome to Texas Hold'em Strip Poker! Today's contestants are playing for what used to be Daryl's bedroom suite! Don't worry folks, we've fumigated the rooms, changed the linens and patched the bullet holes in the bathroom! Now Andrea, take off your shirt. What? You say we haven't dealt the cards yet? We'll take a short commercial break and be back in a minute with Texas Hold'em Strip Poker!"

Daryl pushed the game show brain fart from his head and closed his eyes. Was someone sleeping in his room back at the house tonight? Daryl finally gave in to his exhausted body and fell asleep, despite the heat.

* * *

At 3:45am he stepped out of the truck and rubbed sleep from his tired eyes. The air was much cooler now and he started to work on moving the rest of the vehicles in the road out of the way so he could continue on to Fort Benning.

* * *

Daryl wiped the sweat from his forehead with his t-shirt and looked at the clogged expanse of highway in front of him. He glanced at the sun and sighed. The position of old Sol indicated that it was only about 9:00am. Daryl had started working at a little after 4:00am, trying to clear the rest of the vehicles that blocked the roadway before the sun rose and brought with it the stifling heat. He had stripped off his t-shirt at about 7:00am and by 8:30am he was seriously considering working in only his underwear. The air was heavy and Daryl figured that the temperature was at least 90 degrees.

"In the shade." Imaginary Merle added.

"In the shade," Daryl agreed. In five hours time he had managed to move twelve vehicles. He folded his t-shirt and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans as he slowly walked back to where he had parked his truck. He climbed up onto the hood and pulled his hands away from the hot metal quickly. "Ow, ow, ow." he muttered under his breath and he loosely shook his hands as if that would cool them off. He hoisted himself up onto the roof of the truck and quickly stood up to survey the roadway ahead. Only five more vehicles to move and he would be through this damned tangle of cars. Beyond this traffic snarl the roadway up ahead was clear as far up the road as he was able to see.

Daryl made a slow full turn as he stood on the roof of his truck, looking around in all directions. The area around the highway in that section was wooded and there were deep ditches on both sides of the road. There were no walkers in sight. The cicadas hummed and Daryl could hear a couple of squirrels chattering to each other. Depending on how long it took him to move these last five cars, he might try to get a little bit of hunting in.

He had a good supply of canned goods and three whole cases of Pop Tarts along with some MREs packed into the truck, but he wanted to save those if he could. He was going to try to make it to Maine when he was done searching for Merle and if he did make it to Maine, he would need those food supplies. He had read about the climate in Maine and it wasn't unusual to have periods in the winter where snow storms dumped several feet of snow and the temperature went below zero for days at a time. He would rather not have to hunt in those conditions and temperatures if he could help it.

He surveyed the area around him once again before climbing down off the roof of the truck. Daryl grabbed a gallon jug of water out of the truck cab and drank about a quart of it. It was getting hotter and he had to make sure he didn't become dehydrated. He reached into the truck, popped open the glove compartment and pulled out three bottles of pills. Amoxicillan, Dexone and Dilantin. He fished a pill out from each bottle and tossed them into his mouth, washing them down with a couple of glugs from the gallon jug of water. Hershel had emphasized that skipping doses of these medications was not a good idea and Daryl had almost forgotten to take them. He smiled as he imagined the old vet standing in front of him with a stern look on his face as he shook a bottle of pills at him.

Daryl wondered if Hershel actually would move back into his farmhouse. He had said that he wanted to, but wouldn't it be better for him to be around the others? He wasn't getting any younger and he really seemed to enjoy spending time by the lake. It would be nice if Rick asked Hershel to stay and then let Hershel have the master bedroom suite.

Daryl finished moving the last vehicle, a very nice Humvee H3 out of the roadway. It had started right up, much to his surprise and he was able to maneuver it through a gap he'd created when he'd move two other vehicles. It was an awesome vehicle and he considered taking it, but the damned thing, as beautiful and well equipped at is was, was a huge gas hog and for that reason he couldn't justify keeping it. "Maybe I'll swing back through here with Merle and he can decide if he thinks it's worth takin'." Daryl told himself. After all, it was an automatic and surely Merle could still drive an automatic.

Daryl rolled his windows down as he drove away from the section of roadway he'd worked for hours to clear. It was a little after noon and the humidity had gotten worse. Daryl could tell that there was a helluva storm coming in from the east. It would be on him in another couple of hours. He decided that he would get off the highway and try to find a place to wait out the storm. Hopefully, he could find an empty house or gas station to hunker down in for a while. He reached over into the passenger seat and pet the stuffed skunk sitting there and then pulled a bag of beef jerky out of the grocery bag propped up next to it. A sign next to the highway indicated the exit for Midland was just half a mile up the road. Daryl would try his luck at finding a temporary shelter there.

**Thus endeth chapter one..**


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl turned off the highway and onto Garrett Road. There were a few walkers milling around a sign next to the road that said,"Welcome to Midland" and they shuffled toward the sound of the truck as Daryl drove by them. The houses started to get closer together and he was seeing more walkers as he drove. He was considering turning around and heading in the opposite direction when he noticed a road up ahead to the left marked 'Midland Woods Road". Woods, as in forest, as in not as many houses or people around. That sounded promising. Daryl turned onto the road and slowed as three walkers shambled up out of a ditch and onto the roadway up ahead. Daryl hit the gas and the truck quickly picked up speed. He was going to run the damned things over, but at the last second he eased up and swerved around the disgusting trio. No sense in risking damaging the truck.

The houses got bigger, nicer and farther apart from each other as he drove. Typical McMansion tract, he told himself. After another four miles, the paved road turned to dirt. Daryl passed a farmhouse with a large barn and slowed a bit to watch a dozen walkers feeding on two dead steers in the pasture. There were boney carcasses of other cattle scattered throughout the field and there were still a few steers and cows grazing here and there,a couple as close as twenty feet from the feasting walkers. Daryl smirked. Damned cattle. They were either oblivious or too stupid to notice that two of their nearby herd-mates were being devoured.

Daryl glanced out the window at the cattle again and bit his bottom lip. Would he have room in the truck bed for a steer if he shot one? No, he wouldn't, but he could take one down and just cut a few of the larger and nicer cuts of meat off it and take those with him. Fresh beef steak or a roast would be _so_ good. He was so busy watching the cows in the pasture that he almost hit the two large white-faced steers that had ambled into the middle of the road from the field across the street. He hit the brakes and rolled down his window.

"Get the fuck outta the road before I make hamburger outta ya!" he shouted. The larger of the two looked directly at him, mooed loudly and trotted toward the truck. "What the fuck?" Daryl mumbled as the beast rounded the front of the truck and headed straight for his window. Were the damned animals getting infected and eating people now, too, or did it just recognize living humans as providers of hay and grain? Daryl hit the button to roll up the window and chuckled at the thought of being eaten by a cow. "It'd be payback for all of your relatives I've eaten over the years I 'spose," Daryl told the beast through the one inch crack he left at the top of the window. The animal mooed again and stuck its large nose against the door glass as it huffed and snorted, spreading mucus and slime across the window. Daryl decided that he didn't have time to kill and slaughter a steer, not when he needed to find a place to settle into before the oncoming storm hit, so he stepped on the gas and pulled away from the animal and drove around the other stupid bovine standing in the road. He smiled as he shook his head and said in a Yosemite Sam voice, "Cows is so stupid."

* * *

The sky started to get dark as clouds moved in. Daryl had driven slowly by the last few houses, sizing them up as potential shelters but nothing had seemed very promising. The next house had potential. It was a small, neat two-story cape with dormers set back from the roadway. It was at least a quarter of a mile from the houses on either side of it and it had a long, narrow driveway. The lawn was hidden by an overgrown hedge that partly blocked the view of the house from the road and it had an attached two car garage. Daryl turned and slowly drove up the long gravel driveway that came to an end in front of the garage. Daryl shut the truck off and rolled down his window. The tick tick tick of the engine beginning to cool and the sound of the wind picking up in the surrounding trees was all he could hear.

He got out of the truck and pulled the holster with the twin Blackhawks off where he had hung it over the headrest on the back of the driver's seat and belted it around his waist. Daryl was quite sure he wouldn't need the guns and that his crossbow would be sufficient protection as he checked out the house, but it was always better to err on the side of caution. He loaded a bolt into his crossbow and quietly closed the truck's door. If there was anyone in the house, they would have heard him drive up in the truck. Since he hadn't been shot at or approached by anyone yet he surmised that either there was no one alive in the house or if there was, they were now hiding somewhere inside, waiting to ambush him. He approached the garage and flattened himself against the corner where the garage met the house. He turned the doorknob on the garage's entry door. It wasn't locked and he pushed the door open and stood still for a few seconds. Bringing the crossbow up in front of him, he slowly entered the garage. His eyes darted to each wall and corner of the garage, looking for any potential threats. The garage was empty. There were no vehicles in it and Daryl wondered if the residents of the household had packed up and left when the whole walker clusterfuck had started. With is back to the wall, he crept to the door that opened into the house and peeked through the glass. He was looking in at the kitchen. Nothing appeared to be out-of-place in the kitchen from what he could see. Okay, it was decision time. How was he going to go about checking the house for inhabitants, either human or walker? The direct approach or the super cautious approach were his choices. The direct approach was definitely the time saver of the two methods and he went with that as he had the last time he had to clear a house.

He held his crossbow level and ready and cleared his throat before he called out. "Hey! Anybody home?" He listened for any answering noises but was met with silence. He went from the kitchen into the dining room and cleared that room before moving on to the living room. The living room was empty as well. The house looked as though nothing had been disturbed. Framed photos of a young family were tastefully placed on the bookcase and the sofa table in the living room and Daryl stopped and looked at one of them. The photo showed a couple probably in their thirties and their three children. Mom was a redhead with curly, medium length hair and her two daughters who appeared to be twins about ten years of age had inherited her hair-color. Hubby was dark-haired and bearded and held a blonde little boy of about three. They were all smiling pretty for the camera as they sat on a blanket beneath a large tree. Daryl took a second to wonder if they had gotten to a safe place or if they had been gone somewhere when the world went to hell. He imagined all the people who had been at theme parks like Disney World or Busch Gardens when the infection started to spread. What a sight that must have been. He winced as he pictured someone in a Goofy or Mickey costume staggering after young children. "Look, baby, there's Mickey, go give him a hug…." What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he entertain thoughts like that?

He pushed the vile thought from his head and opened the bathroom door. The bathroom was clear. Thunder rumbled outside and Daryl peeked over at a window as he approached the bottom of the staircase. The sky was getting darker. Daryl looked up the stairs and then looked over toward the kitchen. He decided that clearing the upstairs would just have to wait and he strode purposefully to the kitchen and out the door into the garage. He looked around again in the garage, just to make sure no walkers or people had magically appeared since he was there moments before. It was still quiet except for the moaning of the wind rattling against the building. Daryl approached the overhead garage door and adjusted the pulley on the left side of it. The door was attached to a motor that opened and closed it. The power was off and Daryl crouched down and worked to lift the door manually. The door didn't want to budge and it took Daryl a good five minutes to pry it up enough so that he could get his hands underneath the bottom of the door and get enough leverage so he could lift the damn thing. He felt the stitches Hershel had put into his left side pull against his skin as he strained to move the door and he hoped to hell he wasn't ripping them. The door finally gave way and Daryl pulled it up on its tracks. Daryl was met with a blast of warm wind as he looked out of the garage door opening and scanned the area. He had just made quite a bit of noise trying to get the overhead door open and that was akin to ringing the dinner bell for any walkers in the area. The area was still walker and human free and as he stepped out of the garage towards the truck a large drop of rain hit his nose with a tiny 'splat'. Lightning streaked across the dark sky and Daryl hopped into his truck and started it up, leaning forward to accommodate the crossbow still strapped to his back. A few fat drops of rain hit the windshield and thunder rumbled. Daryl shifted the truck into gear and drove it into the garage.

He rolled the garage door down behind his truck and turned the manual lock handle to secure it. The wind had gained strength and it pummeled the big door and made it creak and moan. Daryl locked the entrance door to the garage and slid the deadbolt over. He stood by the door and watched as the lightning flashed and listened to the thunder respond.

After a couple of minutes of watching the rain come down and the lightning, Daryl readied his crossbow and stepped through the doorway from the garage into the kitchen. He closed and locked the door behind him and made his way to the bottom of the staircase in the living room. He looked up the stairs as he adjusted the bolt in his crossbow and called out in a loud voice. "Anybody up there?" He cocked his head and listened, half expecting to hear the sound of a walker or two shuffling across the floor upstairs. He certainly wasn't disappointed when the only sound he could hear was the rain beating against the windows and the wind howling. The room lit up and became dim, then lit up again as the lightning flashes came one after the other, punctuated by loud crashes of thunder. Daryl had thought when he could feel this storm approaching that it might be a big one and he wondered if this was another hurricane burning itself out after spinning inland from the coast.

He made his way up the stairs and at the top he looked down the hall in both directions. The doors to what he figured must be bedrooms and the bathroom were all closed. He went left and stood outside the door at the very end of the hall. Cautiously, he put his ear against the door and listened, trying to make out any sound outside of the noise the storm was making. He didn't hear anything and he turned the door handle and quickly pushed the door open. He stepped into the room with his crossbow raised and ready to be fired. This was the master bedroom. The room was tidy. The bed was made and there was a laundry basket resting on the end of it filled with clean clothes that would never be put away.

Daryl stalked across the room and peeked into the open door in the corner of the room. The master bedroom's bathroom was no where near as big and fancy as the one he had enjoyed back at his house. His house? Ha! He bit his lip as he was suddenly struck with longing for a nice, hot shower. He had been soaked with sweat for at least half of the last thirty-six hours and he felt dirty and grimy. He was holding his crossbow out in front of him and he moved his nose down into his right armpit. It appeared that the deodorant he'd dabbed under his arms after his shower the day before had surrendered. Oh well. Why should he care if he stunk? It wasn't like he had a hot date or any important social engagements coming up. He stepped into the bathroom and reached over the sink and turned the faucet. Nothing came out.

"Well duh, the electricity is off." he said to himself. He walked back out into the hallway and listened at the second door. He was about ready to open it when he thought he heard something that sounded like a whisper come from behind the door. Daryl swallowed and put his ear to the door again. He heard a faint scraping noise, as if something was sliding across the floor in the room. He took a deep breath, steadied his crossbow and kicked the door open.

* * *

The walker was sitting on the floor at the foot of the little race-car toddler bed. He held a torn and bloody light blue blanket with cavorting white sheep on it in his cyanotic but still relatively chubby toddler hands. Daryl felt his stomach roll. The child's blonde hair was matted with old dried blood and his eyes were a glassy yellow. He looked at Daryl and tried to get to his feet, burbling and hissing as he pulled himself up onto his chubby knees. Daryl watched in stunned silence as the walker child got to his feet and toddled towards him, still gripping his 'blankie'. Daryl hadn't seen very many children that had turned and it was a disturbing sight. Almost as disturbing as the reason small children walkers were rarely seen and babies and toddlers never. Most of the young ones didn't know enough to get away from the walkers and if they had known enough to, they couldn't move fast enough to avoid being caught and eaten.

"Aw, crap, " Daryl groaned and he squeezed the Horton's trigger. He was not comfortable with shooting this little walker but it had to be done. The bolt almost went completely through the child's head and Daryl had to grasp the bolt's shaft beneath the arrowhead and pull it the rest of the way through in order to retrieve it. "Wheres your parents at?" he asked the small corpse as he worked the bolt free. There was no one else in the room and Daryl went back into the hallway and approached the next room.

He went through the same routine, listening at the door first before entering the room. This room held two twin beds made up with matching pink flowered quilts and there was a menagerie of model horses decorating the bookshelves and bureaus in the room. Obviously the twin girls' room, Daryl thought. No people, living or otherwise, were in the room. The bathroom and the other two bedrooms were vacant as well. Daryl looked up at the ceiling panel that held the folding stairs for accessing the attic. Did he really want to check out the attic? He sighed. No, he really didn't want to, but he had to. He knew that it was highly unlikely that anyone, human or otherwise, would be hiding out in the attic, but if he was going to spend the night in this house, and he was afraid that he might just have to, it would drive him nuts not knowing what, if anything, was up there.

Daryl retrieved a flashlight from his truck before pulling the folding ladder down from the ceiling and climbing it to check out the attic. While standing at the top of the ladder, he swept the flashlight beam around the large, open room. There were boxes stacked up at the far end of the attic against the wall and an artificial Christmas tree leaned lazily against a step-ladder next to the boxes. The boxes and the fake tree cast eerie shadows on the wall as Daryl moved the flashlight and a lone mouse that was sneaking across the floor froze when the flashlight's beam came to rest on it. Daryl moved the beam away from the small creature and it quickly scurried behind one of the boxes.

Once he was satisfied that the attic was free of any potential threats. Daryl climbed down the ladder and folded it back into the ceiling.

* * *

The storm still raged outside and the rain was still coming down in sheets. Daryl went down the stairs and into the kitchen to see if there were any canned goods in any of the cupboards. He was sure that he was going to be depending on canned food a lot during the upcoming winter if he made it to Maine. He guessed it was probably around 5:30 pm but the dark sky made it appear to be much later. It was darker in the house than it had been when Daryl first entered it and he flipped the flashlight on again as he entered the kitchen.

He knew the electricity was off and he knew that anything in the refrigerator was more than likely spoiled and moldy but he couldn't help himself and he opened the door to take a peek inside. The odor of rotten milk and eggs immediately filled the room and Daryl would have slammed the refrigerator door shut, but the two twelve packs of Michelob on the bottom shelf proved to be too much of a distraction.

"Woo hoo!" he exclaimed and he rubbed his hands together. "Ain't this a nice surprise." He pulled the two boxes out of the refrigerator and quickly closed the door. He put the twelve-packs up on the kitchen counter and was about to help himself to a nice lukewarm can of foamy goodness when Hershel's face popped into his head.

"No drinking." Hershel said. "I mean it."

Daryl remembered Hershel telling him those very words two days ago. He slammed his left fist down on the counter. Dammit. He really wanted a beer. He had worked hard moving vehicles most of the day and he was tired, cranky and a bit smelly and dammit, would just one little beer really hurt anything?

"Fuck it," he grumbled and he ripped open one of the boxes and put his hand into the box to fish a can of beer out of it. A can popped out of the box and rolled off the counter. Daryl cussed and bent over to retrieve it as it rolled merrily across the kitchen floor. He grabbed it and noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor. He put the can of beer on the shelf and unfolded the paper. It was a handwritten note.

_'Dan and Sue,_

_I'm sorry we couldn't wait for you. We lost Jacob, he is upstairs in his room. DO NOT OPEN HIS DOOR. Two men from Woodbury have invited us and several others to go there with them. They said Woodbury is safe and secure and that they have power and running water. There are many people there already. We are going. If you come here and find this, please meet us there. _

_Matt and Jill'_

Daryl raised his eyebrows. Woodbury. He had bypassed the town due to a blocked roadway. He reached into the twelve-pack box and pulled out another beer. There was no way he was going to open the one that had fallen on the floor and have it spray him. He smirked at a memory that flashed through his mind.

* * *

He and Merle had been hunting rabbits and they had just finished up skinning their catch. A small red Igloo cooler was in the truck and Merle asked Daryl to go and get him a beer out of it. Okay, that wasn't completely true. Merle hadn't asked. Merle had _ordered_ Daryl to go and get him a beer out of the cooler. Daryl had trudged to the truck, taken the beer out of the cooler and had shaken the hell out of the can while inside the truck. He then walked over to where Merle sat de-boning one of the rabbits. He handed Merle the beer and stepped back about five feet. Merle had held the can on his leg and Daryl bit his lip as Merle bent down so his head was _right over the damned top of the can. _Daryl pivoted slightly and readied himself. Merle held the can in one hand and popped the tab on the can of beer with the other and it was as if someone had shot a starting gun. Daryl took off like a shot at the sound and a highly pressurized spray of beer hit Merle in the face, soaking his face, his hair and his shirt. Merle had been furious and when he had caught Daryl a few minutes later (its hard to run when you're laughing your ass off) he had rubbed Daryl's face in the dirt good and hard. Daryl's face had been cut and bruised when Merle was done with him, but Daryl felt that the crime was well worth the punishment.

* * *

Daryl walked into the living room with the beer and sat down in the big blue recliner. He leaned his crossbow up against the side of it and moved the recliner back a bit before cracking the beer open. "Sorry Hershel," he mumbled and he took a sip from the can. The beer was warm and fizzy and delicious and he belched his approval. He closed his eyes and listened to the rain drum against the house and the wind howl. He was safe and dry and he was thankful that he'd been able to find shelter before the storm had hit. Daryl remembered all too well what it was like to be cold and wet and shivering while trying to ride out a storm like this in a wet, leaky tent. The thunder rolled and Daryl started thinking about the people he'd left the day before. The house they now occupied would keep them safe and dry in this storm and it would keep them warm and safe in the coming winter. He thought of Maggie and he wondered what she was doing right then. Was it raining as hard at the house by the lake as it was here in Midland? Was Maggie listening to the thunder and the rain, too, or was she too busy doing something else to pay much attention to it? Had Glenn approached her yet to try to put their relationship back together? Daryl snorted. Why the hell was he even thinking about this stuff? He pushed the thoughts from his head and thought about something more practical. Finding Merle. Daryl decided he would stay the night in this house. He would leave tomorrow and hopefully make it to Fort Benning before the day was done. If he couldn't find Merle there after a day or two, he would backtrack and then go to Woodbury and see if Merle was there.

* * *

Daryl yawned and placed the empty beer can on the floor next to the recliner. He leaned the chair back further and closed his eyes. His body was sore and exhausted and the recliner was comfortable. The thunder quieted and soon the sounds of the wind and the rain lulled him to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl had slept for five hours straight when a nightmare startled him from sleep. He sat up and quickly looked around the dark room but none of the walkers from his dreams had followed him back from the land of nightmares. He took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

The rain still drummed against the house but the wind seemed to have let up and the thunder and lightning had stopped. Daryl moved to get out of the recliner and smacked his right hand against the armrest. "Fuck!" he hissed as pain exploded from the base of his missing finger and shot up his arm. He couldn't believe how damned clumsy he could be. He winced as he held his right hand protectively against his chest and he walked across the living room towards the front door. He felt an urgent need to pee and he thought it would be a good idea just to peek out the door and if the front lawn was clear of walkers, he would just relieve himself from there. Hell, it was dangerous outside and he had no qualms about pissing on someone's front steps. He glanced out the large picture window as he approached the door and he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

There was a vehicle moving slowly down the roadway. It's headlights were on and Daryl could see snippets of light from the headlights shining through gaps in the hedge and casting shadows as the car drove along. He squinted. It appeared to be a small SUV. He watched as the receding tail lights shone through the hedge and then another vehicle appeared, coming from the same direction that this one had. It was another small SUV and Daryl watched as it passed the house followed by two large flatbed trucks. He raised his eyebrows. What the hell? He was glad that he had put his truck in the garage and out of sight. Who was driving the vehicles and where were they going at night and in the rain?

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail. He was hoping to avoid contact with other people at least until he got to Fort Benning and if he met anyone there he would only approach them to ask if they had seen Merle or had any information about him. If there was this kind of traffic on this roadway at night he certainly didn't want to be out on this particular roadway during the day. His truck was loaded up with supplies including food, water, gas, ammo and some impressive weaponry; all things that other survivors would be desperately in need of. Daryl knew that his truck would be a prime target for any groups of people out scavenging for supplies, which was why he was going to do his best to stay away from other people until he was at the military base.

Daryl watched the roadway for another fifteen minutes but he didn't see any more vehicles pass by. His bladder felt like it was going to pop, so he went into the kitchen and peeked out the back door that opened up onto a patio. He could make out the back lawn in the dark and it appeared that the yard was walker free, so he slowly and quietly opened the back door and poked his head out. He looked around again, making sure he was alone. Satisfied that he was unobserved, he stepped out the door and onto the patio and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans as the rain fell down on him. He sighed as the pressure on his bladder was relieved and then zipped up and went back inside.

Daryl quietly went from the kitchen into the garage and lifted the corner of the tarp covering the pickup bed. He was hungry and he really wanted some of that beef jerky sitting in the bag on the passenger side of the front seat, but he figured it would be just his luck to open the door and have the dome light come on just as a vehicle drove by the house. He fumbled around under the tarp until he found the box of Chef Boyardee pasta and he grabbed two cans out of it and sat them on the cab roof. Then he fished a gallon jug of water out of the truck bed. He unscrewed the cap and tilted the jug up to his lips. The water in the jug glugged and chugged as he drank deeply. He hadn't realized how damned thirsty he was. He placed the jug back in the truck bed before readjusting the tarp and then he snatched up his cans of pasta and snuck back into the house.

In the kitchen, Daryl opened what he thought would probably be the silverware drawer. He was not going to eat messy, tomatoey pasta with his fingers if he could help it. "'Specially after you never washed your hands when you were done pissin'." he reminded himself with mild disgust. "Bingo," he said as he withdrew a spoon from the drawer and walked back into the living room. He put the cans of pasta and the spoon on the coffee table and moved the recliner over next to the picture window in the living room. He adjusted it so it was where he wanted it to be and then he pulled the coffee table over next to it. Daryl sat in the big, comfortable chair and tilted it back just enough so that he could see the patch of roadway that ran along in front of the house through the hedge. He reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a can of pasta. He popped the top off the can as he held it between his knees and then licked off the underside of the metal cap.

"You're gonna cut your tongue doin' that some day, dummy." Imaginary Merle warned.

Daryl snorted. "Been doin' this for years and I ain't cut it yet."

"Fine, fine, little brother, but when you slice your damned tongue off don't say I didn't warn your stupid ass."

"If I slice my tongue off, it's my understanding that I won't be able to be sayin' much of anything."

Daryl sighed. Was he really arguing with Imaginary Merle? He truly was losing his mind. He looked into the can of pasta to see just what variety of culinary delight he had grabbed out of the box in the truck bed. He discovered that he was holding a can of spaghetti and meatballs. He preferred the ravioli but this would do and who knows what the second can he'd grabbed held?

"Ain't no fuckin' difference in any of that shit!" Imaginary Merle griped. "It's all the same damned ingredients! The sauce is exactly the same in all of that Chef Boyardee shit! The pasta is just in different shapes! How the hell can it taste different?"

"How the hell would you know? You never eat this stuff."

"Fuckin' right I don't. Disgustin' is what it is."

"If I find your sorry ass and we get to Maine, you'll be beggin' to eat this stuff before winter's over."

Imaginary Merle shut up and Daryl finished his can of spaghetti and meatballs. "Does too taste different," he muttered to himself.

Daryl didn't think he'd be able to get back to sleep and he was okay with that. He figured that he would wait until the sun started to rise and then he would be on his way. He shifted in the big chair as he watched out the window and he started to consider what his options, if any, would be if he ran into a large group of hostile people. They didn't look very promising.

He'd more than likely have to fight to defend what was his. What if there were too many of them and he wasn't able to fight them off and they ended up taking all his supplies and his weapons? He'd be up shit creek without a paddle if that happened. Maybe he should take some of the weapons and the food out of the truck and hide the stuff in a safe place for back up, just in case he did get robbed. No, that was stupid. If he ran into a large group that was hell-bent on taking his truck and his supplies, he'd probably be dead no matter what course of action he took. If he surrendered willingly, they would probably kill him as he would just be seen as a drain on their food and resources and if he stood his ground he'd probably die defending himself and his possessions. He smirked. Talk about bleak prospects. He considered unloading the whole damned truck and driving it empty down to Fort Benning. If he headed out with no food and no weapons and he ended up running into another group, they wouldn't think it was worth the effort to go after him, would they? Of course they would. A running vehicle, especially a 4WD, was still a valuable commodity.

No, he would leave everything in his truck. Everything except the maps showing the locations of the NDBH bases and the papers with the information about the bases on them. If those fell into the wrong hands things could get dangerous for the group occupying the house at Looking Glass Base. He couldn't, he _wouldn't_ allow that. The group was safe there. More importantly, Maggie was safe there and he'd be damned if he'd allow anything to compromise her safety

Daryl decided that he would just take the map showing the way to Fort Benning with him and leave the other maps here in a drawer in the kitchen. If he found Merle, they could swing back over to this house and pick up the maps and information sheets and if he didn't find Merle, he could do it himself. Either way, he was heading to Maine, with or without his older brother.

Daryl yawned and stretched. He thought of the house in Maine and how nice it would be to be in a secluded place next to the ocean. He and Merle could fish as well as hunt and wasn't Maine also known for its blueberries? And moose! There were moose in Maine. A moose was much larger than a white-tailed deer. Daryl knew from reading various hunting magazines that they could weigh over a thousand pounds. He had never eaten moose meat but he had heard that it tasted a lot like beef and not so much like venison. He closed his eyes and imagined how nice it would be to bring down one of the big animals. It could be the equivalent of bringing down five deer, meat-wise. He could set up a smoke house and they could make smoked jerky and smoke some of the fish they caught and lobsters! Weren't there lobsters in the waters around Maine? Moose and lobsters and blueberries and fish. It would be a great place for him and for Merle.

It was still raining when Daryl opened his eyes as the rumbling of an engine pulled him from slumber. The gray light of dawn greeted him and his eyes grew wide as he saw a flatbed truck loaded down with three Humvees slowing to stop in the roadway behind a small SUV right in front of the house.

"Well shit," he mumbled as he slid out of the chair and onto the carpeted floor. He scooted behind the recliner and took a couple of deep breaths. Shit was right. If anyone had been walking around the outside of the house and peeked in through the picture window they would have looked right at him. He heard voices outside but they didn't appear to be too close and he figure they were probably coming from down by the roadway. He hoped so. Daryl listened. There were four, no five, five different voices all speaking together. He caught bits and pieces of what was being said.

"The governor said to..."

"...good haul, too bad..."

"...damned transmission slipping..."

"...I told you...smelled like burned toast..."

"...take them alive...killed them all.."

"Lets go!"

Then vehicle doors were being slammed and Daryl heard the flatbed truck's engine rev and the SUV start up. He could tell by the sound of the engine that it was a Honda. The SUV was a Honda CRV. He would have loved to get his hands on one of those solely for the gas mileage it would get, but there was no room in the back of one for his Fat Boy and there was no way in hell he was leaving that behind. Sure, the motorcycle would be useless in the winter up in Maine, but so what? He had fallen in love with the big, black beast and he was taking it with him, no matter what.

Daryl waited for about fifteen minutes after the flatbed and the Honda had pulled away before he stood up from behind the recliner and went and peeked out the window. When he was sure no one was out in front of the house, he walked out into the garage.

He got into his truck and gathered up all the maps and papers about the NDBH bases and brought them into the house. After he'd opened up the silverware drawer in the kitchen and pulled the molded plastic silverware holder out, he carefully arranged the papers in a small pile and placed them in the drawer. He covered them with the silverware holder and made sure not a single bit of a page could be seen if someone opened the drawer. Daryl kept out only the Georgia roadways map and took that out to the truck with him.

He made sure the tarp on the back of the truck was secure and after walking around the house twice in the rain and confirming that the area was people and walker free, Daryl unlocked and lifted the overhead garage door and backed his truck out of the garage. He jumped out of the truck and lowered the garage door before shaking what water he could off himself and climbing back into his truck. His hair was soaked and he was dripping wet and the windows in the truck quickly fogged up. Daryl hit the windshield defogger switch and rolled the windows down to defog the windshield so he could see where the hell he was going. It was already hot out, despite the rain, and he turned the truck around and drove down the driveway.

He looked up and down the road, half expecting to suddenly see a vehicle heading in his direction, but the road was deserted and Daryl turned left onto Midland Woods Road to head back to Rte 85. "Here I come, big brother," he muttered.

* * *

Maggie sat on the back porch in the rocking chair, sipping her coffee and watching the rain come down. It was a little after 6:30am and she had already been awake for a couple of hours.

After finally tiring of lying awake in bed and staring at the ceiling in the room she was now sharing with Andrea, she had quietly gotten up and come downstairs. She had slipped into Daryl's room and showered in his bathroom, so as not to disturb the others still sleeping on the second and third floors. At least that's what she would say if anyone asked her why she had showered in there. When she finished showering, she had grabbed the big white towel that was hanging behind the bathroom door and wrapped it around her. She was drying her hair off with a corner of it when she caught the scent of pine and rain with a touch of citrusy Big Sexy Hair and she held the towel up to her nose and inhaled deeply. It smelled of Daryl.

Maggie rocked back and forth as she held her cup of coffee in both hands. Daryl had been gone for more than forty eight hours now and it seemed like she just couldn't stop thinking about him. Where had he slept last night and the night before? Did he find someplace safe to bed down for the night? Was he okay? "I miss you, Tiger." she whispered to the rain.

A few minutes later the kitchen door opened and Glenn stepped out onto the back porch holding a cup of coffee in his hands. He smiled at Maggie and pointed to the bench next to the rocking chair. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

Maggie looked Glenn over. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a wrinkled white t-shirt. His hat was conspicuously missing and his hair stuck out in all directions. His nose was still swollen and both his eyes had bruises beneath them. Daryl hadn't held back when he'd punched Glenn in the nose, Maggie thought. "Of course I don't mind," she said.

Glenn walked by her and sat down on the bench. He leaned back until his head touched the rough log wall behind him.

Maggie watched him as he brought his coffee cup to his lips. "You look like you just rolled out of bed," she said.

Glenn swallowed a mouthful of coffee and then yawned. "That's because I did." he replied.

"So why are you up so early?" Maggie asked him.

"Couldn't sleep." Glenn said.

Maggie was going to make a comment about how she would have thought that it should be easier for him to sleep now that she wasn't hogging the covers in his bed anymore but she kept her mouth shut. She mentally scolded herself for even thinking of saying such a thing. She and Glenn obviously were no longer boyfriend and girlfriend, but Maggie hoped that they could still be friends. Making a smart-ass comment like she almost had would not be helpful or wise.

Maggie looked out at the rain as she held her coffee cup in both hands and rocked in the chair.

Glenn watched her as she gazed out at the lawn. "What are you thinking about?" he asked her.

Maggie smiled. "I'm thinking about going to check the coop for eggs." she replied and she turned to look at him as she continued to rock. "Why, what are you thinking about?"

Glenn looked at Maggie and then looked out across the lawn at the chicken coop he, Carl and Beth had built over the last two days. It was a nice and well made little building, complete with nesting boxes and a little chicken door cut into the side of it. Glenn was quite proud of it. "I'm thinking about Daryl. I wonder where he is and if he's okay. I never got to apologize to him and he was so damned mad at me before he left." He turned so he was sitting on the end of the bench, facing Maggie. "You know, it doesn't feel right, him not being here. I mean, he found this house. He was living here before any of us showed up and he should be here. This is his place. I feel like we all just, you know, drove him away."

Maggie bit her lip and didn't say anything. What could she say? That she agreed? They were both silent for a few moments, then Glenn said, "I think I'm going to ask Rick if I can take the truck out to the farm today. I'd like to pick up a few bales of hay for the goats and see if I can round up a few more chickens." he hesitated for a few seconds before adding, "You wanna come?"

Maggie finished her coffee and then smiled at Glenn. "Sure. We should see if Dad wants to come back with us, too."

Glenn nodded. "Sure, we can ask him." He was quite sure Hershel would be staying at the lake house for now. Hershel had assigned himself the job of monitoring and caring for Carol since she'd done what Glenn called "checked into loony land" and Glenn was sure that the man did not want to let her out of his sight.

"I'm going in to get another cup of coffee," Maggie said to Glenn as she stood up from the rocking chair. "Can I get you anything?"

Glenn looked into his coffee cup. It was still half full. "No thanks, all set." he said. He watched Maggie walk to the kitchen door and caught himself staring at her ass. "Bad Glenn, bad!" he said to himself under his breath. He was happy that Maggie had agreed to go to the farm with him and he was looking forward to some alone time with her. Now that Daryl was gone, maybe she'd be more receptive to the idea of getting back together. He certainly hoped so.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl had gotten back on Rte 85 and had only gone three miles when up ahead through the rain he could see a huge, burned out expanse of vehicles blocking the highway. He was about a quarter of a mile from the mess of twisted and charred metal when he first noticed it, which was not close enough to be able to determine whether or not he'd be able to find a way through or around the mish-mash of vehicles. He continued his approach until he was able to see that it would be impossible to get around or through it. He scratched at the goatee on his chin as he examined the blackened roadblock ahead of him. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Napalm had been dropped on the vehicles.

Daryl stepped out of his truck into the rain and climbed up on top of his truck to see if he could see beyond the tangle of burned out vehicles. The results of the napalm drop by military helicopters was evident as far as he could see down the roadway. Charred vehicles clogged the highway for at least the next mile ahead. He couldn't see much farther than that due to the rain. Daryl climbed down off the roof of the truck and got back behind the wheel. He consulted the map and after taking a moment to memorize a new intended route, he folded the map and placed it on the seat next to him and turned the truck around. He backtracked a mile and a half and then turned onto Macon Road.

Macon Road had been newly paved right before the dead started to walk and it was still in good shape. It was a set up for one lane in each direction with a posted speed limit of 40 mph. Daryl had to weave around deserted vehicles in the roadway for the first couple of miles, then the road was clear of other vehicles for the next fifteen. He had traveled for close to an hour when he reached he outskirts of Columbus, GA . He had kept himself entertained by counting how many walkers he saw as he drove and so far he' seen thirty-six of them, the largest group being what looked like it was once a family unit of six. Most were stragglers either by themselves or with one or two others scattered here and there.

The most interesting thing he had come across as he drove was a herd of about twenty-five or so horses wandering around on the side of the roadway and in an open field next to the road. Daryl knew that there was a large thoroughbred breeding farm in this area as he and Lily had made the trip down to the farm twice to pick up a couple of mares for Bud. Daryl slowed down as he approached the herd and he was happy he'd done so when a bay mare with a young foal bolted out in front of his truck from behind a disabled telephone truck that was parked on the side of the road. There were what looked to be quite a few thoroughbreds in the herd, but they were a mixed group and Daryl saw a couple of draft horses and a pony among the large group of equines. They appeared to be holding up well and none of them appeared to be overly thin. Two walkers were trying their best to approach and grab at the horses grazing on the edge of the road but the horses never let the foul-smelling former humans get close enough to touch them.

Daryl accelerated once the herd of horses was behind him and continued to drive south. The rain had stopped and the sun seemed to have returned with a vengeance as it banished all traces of any clouds from the sky and evaporated any puddles of water that the rain had left behind. It was starting to get unbearably hot again, but at least it wasn't as humid. Daryl turned onto 10th Armored Division Rd and realized he was a little more than fifteen miles from Fort Benning. "Hope you're there and I hope I can find you, bro." Daryl muttered.

* * *

When the Dixon brothers were camping out at the quarry with the group not too long after meeting up with them, Merle and Shane had both agreed that it would be a good idea to head out for Fort Benning. The two of them thought that it would be safe there, what with the military presence and all. There would be weapons, food, medicine, and manpower and surely the military would be working on some sort of containment procedure to keep what was left of the human population safe from the walkers. Daryl smirked. Daryl had never gotten along with Shane, but Merle and Shane had tolerated each other quite well. The Fort Benning subject had come up one night by the fire and Shane and Merle had enthusiastically agreed that it would be a damned fine idea to go there. Daryl had left to go hunting the next morning and hadn't seen his brother since. The day after Daryl had disappeared into the woods to hunt, Merle had gone into Atlanta on a supply run with some other members of the group and they had returned with Rick Grimes and without Merle Dixon. Most people in the group thought it was a damned good trade, but they had been smart enough not to say this in front of Daryl. The plan to go to Fort Dixon had been nixed by Rick and the unfortunate trip to the CDC had been made instead and ho ho, hadn't that turned out just swell.

* * *

After turning onto 10th Armored Division Road, Daryl drove a mile before turning left onto Massey Road. He drove another two miles and made a left turn onto Wildcat Drive. He was almost there and evidence of a nearby military based started to increase. Two disabled tanks sat on the side of the road with three burned out Humvees. Five walkers in olive green fatigues shambled around the vehicles and started toward Daryl's truck as they heard and saw it approaching. He drove by them without incident. The wreckage from a helicopter crash partially blocked the road and more fatigue wearing walkers ambled around in the road near it. Daryl passed by them, too, and then turned onto Custer Rd. He drove a mile and a half down Custer Road and passed five military transport buses parked on the side of the road. The buses were riddled with bullet holes and several partial bodies and limbs hung off the side of the buses where the windows had been shot-out. Custer Road dissolved into Ft Benning Boulevard and Daryl tried to think of where Mere would be holed up if he had made it to the base.

Several walkers were plodding down the road in the same direction he was heading and towards three large, black Lincoln Navigators parked on the right side of the road up ahead. There was a little blue Honda Civic parked in front of the Navigators and Daryl noticed that two walkers were crouching by the left front tire on the Civic. One of them seemed to be small. A child walker? Those were rare. As Daryl got closer the child walker stood up. Daryl raised his eyebrows in surprise as the small walker started shouting and waving its arms as his truck closed the distance between them. He was hit with the realization that this was not a walker, but a human child. He lowered the window on the passenger side of his truck as he came to a stop just before the Civic.

The small walker turned out to be a boy, probably about Carl's age. His blonde hair was cut short and his clothes were clean and the kid looked clean and well fed, too. Daryl brought up a Blackhawk as the child ran to the open window and grasped the top of the door with his hands. Tears stained the child's face and he was sobbing and Daryl thought he looked terrified.

"Please, sir, please help us!" the boy begged. "We got a flat tire and my Mom's hand is caught and the biters are coming! I'm not strong enough to move the tire off her hand! Please! Please help her!"

Daryl shoved the Blackhawk back into its holster and jumped out of the truck. He quickly followed the boy to the Honda.

* * *

Glenn smiled. He was in a really good mood. This was the perfect little road trip and he was in the driver's seat. The sun was shining, the sky was clear and he had a travel mug filled with damned good coffee resting in the F150's cup holder just for him. There were four chocolate chip cookies wrapped in a paper towel tucked into the console for his cookie eating enjoyment and the interior of the truck was twenty degrees cooler than the hot, humid air outside as the air conditioner in the truck pumped out crisp, cool air. Glenn felt that the very best part of this road trip was that Maggie Greene was sitting next to him. For some reason, this made him feel giddy, like he was on his first date or something like that.

He pushed a CD into the CD player and Maggie bit her lip and looked out the window as the music played.

"Take your time,

Don't live to fast..

Troubles will come

and they will pass.."

Maggie reached over pushed the eject button. "I'm sorry. I just can't listen to this right now." she said.

Glenn swallowed. Well hell, his good mood had just gone out the window. Shit. Who the hell had stuck a Lynryd Skynyrd CD into the CD player, anyway? Daryl had never driven this truck, had he?

They drove in silence for a few moments, then Glenn glanced over at Maggie for a second before looking back at the roadway as he drove. "So," he said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Maggie turned from the window and looked at Glenn. "There isn't really anything to say and even if there was, you can't tell me that you wouldn't feel awkward talking about it."

Glenn snorted. "Ha. The jokes on you, Maggie Greene, because you see, I almost always feel awkward about just about everything, so I'm open for discussion about anything at any time." He took a quick peek at her and smiled. "You of all people should know that."

Maggie grinned. "You're too hard on yourself," she said.

"I'm too hard on myself? I am? When I told you that we had eleven condoms left after the first time we made love, do you remember what you said to me?"

Maggie blushed. She did.

"You said, 'you see eleven condoms, I see eleven minutes of my life I'm never getting back.'" Glenn reminded her.

"Wow," Maggie said with a smile. "I was being generous, wasn't I?"

"What? No! No, you were not!" he laughed and then cleared his throat. They both rode in silence for a few moments, and then Glenn said, "A lot has happened since then."

"I'm sorry." Maggie blurted. "I really am. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't expect to.." she broke off there and looked out the window again.

Glenn sighed. "I have to ask, and you don't have to answer me, but I have to ask anyway."

Maggie bit her lower lip in anticipation of the question from Glenn. This really _was_ awkward.

"Okay, I lied. I have two questions. First of all, why does Daryl hate me so much? Second, Why didn't you go with him when he left? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm very glad that you didn't leave. Very glad, but I figured that since you guys were obviously in love and I'm sure he tried to talk you into going with him..."

"You are so wrong about so many things," Maggie said to Glenn. "First of all, Daryl doesn't hate you. If anything he's the president and number one fan of the Glenn Rhee fan club. Second.."

"Oh bullshit on that." Glenn interrupted.

"No, no bullshit." Maggie said. "I promise. Daryl kept telling me that I needed to try to work things out with you and that I belonged with you. He said that you could love me the way I needed to be loved and that he couldn't. He said he didn't have it in him to love anyone ever again."

Glenn swallowed. Daryl had said that about him? Daryl had told Maggie that she belonged with Glenn and that he didn't have it in him to love her? Holy shit had he misjudged Daryl.

"Daryl said you were better for me than he would be and he refused to let me leave with him. Andrea had wanted to go, too and he wouldn't let her go with him, either. I think he left so early in the morning so he could avoid us and our attempts to jump in his truck and leave with him."

"Let me see if I have this straight," Glenn said, "Daryl didn't want you to go with him and he really said that he thought you'd be better off with _me_?"

Maggie sighed. "Yes. Yes, he adamantly refused to let me go with him and he told me he didn't love me, but that you did. Does that make you feel better?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Glenn knew she was hurting and he was hurting, too. "Would you think I was a total asshole if I said yes, it does?"

Maggie smirked. "Yes. But at least you're an honest asshole."

Glenn was torn. Part of him was mad at Daryl for hurting Maggie, but part of him was secretly pleased as well. He was a little ashamed of himself about that. After all, how juvenile was the 'ha ha ha, take that! Now you know how you made _me_ feel.' mentality. Oh well. He couldn't help how he felt any more than Maggie could help how she felt.

"Look," Maggie said. "For what its worth, I'm sorry that I hurt you. I didn't plan on developing feelings for Daryl. Not in a million years would I have expected that to happen."

"You and me both." Glenn paused for several seconds and then got up the courage he needed. He took a deep breath and addressed Maggie. "Since I've got you trapped here in the truck and the only way you can get out is to jump from the moving vehicle, I'm going to ask you an inappropriate question that is probably going to totally and completely piss you off. "

Maggie raised her eyebrows. "Ooooh, I'm intrigued," she said. "But I can't promise that I'll answer it or that I won't smack you a good one when you ask it."

Glenn smiled. "No smacking me unless you're wearing a dominatrix outfit."

Maggie laughed. "Glenn! Stop that!"

"I just want to know, " Glenn said. "What did Daryl have that I didn't? Besides the fact that he was way cooler than me and was much more skilled in the sack that I am."

Maggie scoffed. "It wasn't a matter of Daryl having something you didn't have or being 'cooler'. What are you, ten years old? It was just that as I got to know him, we developed this really intense connection. I don't know how to explain it. And as far as 'bedroom skills' go, I never slept with Daryl so I have no idea about those."

Glenn's eyes got wide. "What? You can't be serious. I mean, come on, you spent the last night he was at the house in his room with him."

"Yes, I did. He was tense that night after all the crap that had gone on that day and I rubbed his back until he fell asleep. I fell asleep, too and when I woke up in the morning he was gone. We didn't mess around at all."

"Oh come on. He _told_ me you got him off."

"He told you that? okay, yes, yes I did. Once." she blushed. "I can't believe this talking to you about this."

"Well, believe it. I want to know so spill. When and how?"

"Why on earth would you want to know this? "

"'Cause I'm a huge masochist. I want to know how you got Dixon off and never had sex with him. Now tell me. Please."

"Fine. If you insist, but this is so awkward." Maggie looked down at her knees and Glenn peeked over at her and he could see that she was blushing.

"It was when I let him see me naked. He was...and I...all I did was grab him though his jeans and he was done. He was fully clothed the whole time and he never, ever tried to get into my pants. Ever."

Glenn chewed on his lower lip. She almost sounded disappointed. This was an interesting development. He wasn't sure why, but he did feel a bit better knowing that Maggie and Daryl had never been completely intimate with each other. The fact that all it had taken for Daryl to get off was a grope through his jeans surprised and amused Glenn. He wondered if that made him a bad person.

"I'm sorry, Glenn. I was just sort of caught up in the moment." Maggie tried to explain.

"No, no, I get it. I apologize for my morbid curiosity."

"And I apologize for hurting you."

"We're good." Glenn said. "I'm over it. Almost."

Maggie smiled.

Glenn pulled the F150 onto Fairburn Road and in another ten minutes they were turning into the driveway at the Greene's farm.

There were no walkers to be seen anywhere and as they got out of the truck Maggie said, "I'd like to grab one of the bushel baskets from out of the barn and pick some peaches to take back to the house. Will we have time to do that? "

"Sure, I don't see why not." Glenn replied.

Maggie and Glenn both walked out behind the house and toward the barn. Glenn broke off and walked toward the chicken coop when he noticed several of the birds scratching and pecking in the yard around the coop. "I'm going to check for eggs and then try to grab a few hens," he said.

"I'll come and help you in a minute." Maggie said as she continued walking toward the barn to retrieve a basket for the peaches. She went around to the side of the old building and stopped in her tracks. The barn door was open and she thought she heard something moving around inside the barn. She slipped her Sig Sauer 226 pistol from its holster and slowly approached the open door. If it was a walker, she would shoot the damned thing. She stopped and peeked into the barn, and after seeing nothing from her vantage point that looked to be out-of-place, she took a deep breath and stepped inside. She shrieked when someone grabbed her and wrenched the gun from her hand and then shoved her down forcefully. She stumbled and fell onto the hay covered barn floor.

"Don't make a fuckin' noise, toots or I'll blow your head off," a gruff male voice growled.

Maggie whimpered and looked up at her assailant. He was a stocky man, probably in his mid to late 40's or early 50's. He had close-cropped, gray, curly hair and a weathered, square-jawed face and he held her gun in his left hand. She heard the safety click as he flicked it off. Maggie's eyes widened as she noticed the man's right arm. He wore some sort of apparatus and his hand had been replaced with a long and sharp-looking knife blade.

"Please don't hurt me." Maggie pleaded.

The man narrowed his eyes at her and Maggie was struck with a feeling of familiarity with the expression and his eyes. There was enough light shining through the dull barn windows for her to see the man's eyes were a clear pale blue.

"I ain't gonna hurt you if you do what I say," the man snapped. "You live here?"

Maggie nodded as she slowly stood up. "I did, but we found a safer place just a few weeks ago."

"How many of you are there?" the man demanded.

Maggie bit her lower lip. She didn't know this man and she sure as hell wasn't going to let him know about the lake house and the group.

"Who are you?" Maggie asked.

"I'm the one askin' the questions here, darlin'," the man drawled. "Now how many of you are there?"

"Six," Maggie lied.

"Maggie?!" Glenn's voice called from outside. "I need your help! These damned chickens are tricky little buggers."

The man put his finger to his lips. "You say one word of warnin' and your friend is dead." he whispered.

"Maggie? Where are you?" Glenn's voice was closer now.

Maggie looked at the door and then at the man and then back at the door.

"Oh, there you are!" Glenn stepped forward to enter the barn. "Why didn't you answer me? Not funny, Maggie, not..."

The man stepped out in front of Glenn and stuck the Sig Sauer in his face.

Glenn's words died on his lips. "Merle?" he gasped.

Merle's thin lips curled into a smile and he stepped back. He motioned to Maggie with the gun. "Move on over and stand next to the Chinese kid here." he said with amusement in his voice.

Maggie did as she was told. Glenn looked like he was in shock. His mouth hung open and his eyes were huge as he stared at the oldest Dixon brother.

"Woo hoo! Lookit what we have here!" Merle exclaimed as his devilish smile broadened.

"We, we came.. back for you." Glenn stuttered. "but you...you were gone."

Maggie sucked in a breath. Merle. "You're Daryl's brother!" she exclaimed.

The smile left Merle's face and he scowled as he took a step towards Maggie. "You know my baby brother? He still alive?"

Maggie nodded. "He...he headed out to look for you two..two days ago. He was heading to Fort Benning."

Merle smiled again. "I knew it. I knew he was still alive. So tell me, Glenn, you still with that group of losers? The nigger? The cops? That fucker that cuffed me to the roof still kickin'?"

Glenn pursed his lips and then said, "We came back, Merle. Me, Rick, T-Dog and Daryl. We came back for you but you were already gone."

"So where y'all callin' home now?" Merle asked, completely ignoring what Glenn had said. "Don't look like no one's stayin' here anymore. I'm out on a supply run for my own group and we caught a couple of goats here yesterday. Came back today to see what else I could find. We got a whole town, and guess what? You're gonna get a VIP tour of the place! Now let's go." He motioned toward the open door with his knife hand as he kept the gun trained on Glenn.

"Uh...I don't think that's a very good idea." Glenn stammered.

"Shut up Glenn, I'm not giving you a choice here!" Merle snarled.

Glenn cringed and Maggie reached over and grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Now I've got a nice Dodge Ram parked right behind this barn. What say we all get in and take a little ride? You're drivin' Glenn and if either of you try anything funny, I've got no problem with blowing your damned brains out. Now move!"

Merle herded Maggie and Glenn towards the nearby truck. Glenn opened the passenger's door and slid in and over behind the steering wheel. Maggie got in and moved over into the middle of the seat.

"No, girly, you and me are ridin' in the back."

At first, Maggie thought he meant in the truck bed, but he motioned to the back seats in the extra cab. Maggie climbed into the back and sat directly behind Glenn. Merle slid in next to her. He reached over with his left hand and closed the truck's door. "Okay," he said, "let's go. If we're lucky, we'll get there just in time for a late lunch."

Glenn drove down the Greene's driveway toward Fairburn Road. Dirt and gravel kicked up from the dry roadway behind the truck, leaving a cloud of dust behind it as it headed for Woodbury.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl knelt down next to the small, blonde woman that was sitting on the pavement, pressed up next to the Honda's left front tire. She was weeping hysterically and Daryl tried to speak in a calm and reassuring manner to her. He needed to have her move her body away from the tire so he could take a look at her hand and figure out how best to move the tire off it. "I'm here to help you, ma'am," he said, "but you need to help me to help you. Now if you could just.."

"The biters! Please don't let them get us!" the woman cried.

"Don't worry 'bout them. I won't let them get anywhere near you..but you've gotta let me see where your hand is at. Your boy said it's caught under the tire."

"It is. We were changing the tire and the jack kicked out." the woman tearfully explained.

"Let me take a look," Daryl said calmly and he followed the woman's arm down with his eyes as he bent in lower to get a good look at her hand. He furrowed his brow when he saw that her hand wasn't really under the tire at all, but just placed in front of where the tire met the ground.

"You ain't caught...what's..." he didn't get any more than that out before a crowbar caught him across the back of his shoulders, pushing him forward so his forehead smacked against the car's front fender. He went down on his knees as the woman jumped back away from the car and he could hear vehicle doors opening and men shouting to one another.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and then opened them, trying to clear his head as he stood up. He was about to open his mouth to speak when someone heavy slammed into his back from behind and fell on top of him, pushing him down onto the ground on his stomach. Daryl tried to dislodge whoever was on his back and then there were several male voices shouting and Daryl's face was slammed into the pavement. He struggled and shouted as he felt the weight of more men holding him down and he fought like a wildcat as blows rained down on him and his hands were pulled behind his back. What the hell? He twisted one of his arms free and swung hard at one of the men holding him down. He felt his fist connect with someone's mouth as teeth cut into his knuckles and then his head was being slammed into the pavement again. Pain shot through his head and he saw stars. Then someone was sitting on his upper back, pinning his shoulders to the ground with their knees and another man was sitting on his upper thighs. His legs were being held by several hands and he felt the weight of a man across each of his legs as well. He took a deep breath to try to clear his head and then his arms were being forced behind his back and he heard a metallic click as handcuffs were snapped around his wrists to restrain him. Daryl tried to buck and throw the men holding him off but there were too many of them and they were too heavy. "Get the fuck off me!" he roared.

"You just shut the fuck up, asshole!" a male voice said.

"You're not going to kill him, are you?" the woman's voice asked.

"Why not? We don't need any more men in Woodbury."

Daryl wrenched his head around and tried roll to his side. He tried with all his strength to kick his legs and was actually able to kick the man holding his right lower leg. Someone grabbed him by the hair and Daryl sucked in a breath as he felt the tip of a gun barrel being pushed against the back of his aching head.

"Wait! Please!" the woman shouted.

Daryl felt a spark of hope. Maybe the woman would convince the men to spare his life. After all, he had stopped to help her, not to harm anyone.

"Wait!" the woman shouted again. "Don't shoot him yet! You can't! Not in front of Tyler! He'll have nightmares for weeks!"

Daryl almost laughed as his head swam in the gulf between lucidity and confusion. The woman was in on it. He'd been set up with her and the boy as bait. She was the spider and he was the fly.

"Nah, she was the cheese in the trap and you're the rat," corrected Imaginary Merle.

The gun barrel was removed from his head.

"Fine." a man's voice said. "Both of you go get into my vehicle and have Tyler duck down and put his hands over his ears if it bothers him so damned much."

Daryl struggled wildly as he heard the woman and the boy walk away and then someone's hand pushed his head back against the ground and held it there. Many hands were holding him down and he felt the barrel of the gun replace the hand against the back of his head and he heard the click as the gun was cocked. Daryl realized then that is was one of his own Blackhawks that was going to be used to execute him.

"Nice guns, Wyatt Earp," a voice said in his ear. "Let' see what kind a damage they can do."

The man's face had to be close and Daryl threw his head up and to the side. He heard a dull 'thunk' as his head connected forcefully with the man's chin, causing the man to bite his tongue. Hard.

"Motherfucker!" the man yelled as he grabbed Daryl by the hair and yanked his head back, pressing the Blackhawk hard against his temple.

"Stop it! Don't kill 'im!" a voice shouted from behind them. "Gov'ners gonna want to talk to this one. Wait 'til you see what he's got loaded in his truck!"

The gun was still pressed against Daryl's temple. "I don't care! This asshole made me bite my tongue fuckin' hard! Its bleedin' all over the damned place! We can tell the governor we killed him before we saw what he had in his truck," the holder of the Blackhawk said.

"No, I don't think so. Come take a look at this shit."

There was a sigh. "Okay, just a second."

Three pairs of hands still held him down and the gun barrel was pulled away from Daryl's temple. Then his head was being yanked back by the hair again and twisted to the side.

"Well, it looks like I'm not the first person that's had problems with you." The man holding the Blackhawk said as he examined the stitches in Daryl's forehead and the bruises on his face. The man was a big man, well over six feet tall and muscle bound. He had dark brown eyes and his head was shaved. Daryl glared at him and the man raised his eyebrows as he was hit with the feeling of recognition. There was something familiar about this blue eyed bastard, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Daryl spit in his captor's face. He heard the man bellow and then a deafening shot rang out and something slammed into the right side of his head.

"What the fuck? Did you shoot him?" a voice shouted from the window of Daryl's truck.

"No, just clubbed him with the gun and it went off accidentally."

The other men laughed. "You're an idiot, Morey," one of them said.

"Be more fucking careful! You guys wouldn't be laughing if one of you'd been hit!" the voice coming from the truck shouted. "Now get on over here and check this out."

"Be right there," Morey said. He grabbed Daryl by his hair and pulled his head back. There was no resistance and those creepy blue eyes were closed. It appeared that he'd succeeded in knocking the bastard out when he pistol whipped him. He release Daryl's head and let it drop back to the pavement. "Spit on me will you, you asshole." Morey muttered.

Daryl slipped in and out of awareness and he heard bits and pieces of what was said as Woodbury's acquisition team checked out the contents of his truck. They marveled at the Shrikes and the Stoner Commandos and the boxes upon boxes of ammo.

"Son of a bitch! This fuckin' box is full of grenades! This asshole's truck is a damned mobile arsenal!"

"He's got a lot of food packed up back here, too. Damn, you think he's traveling with a group? Maybe they sent him out ahead?"

"I don't know, but lets get back to town. The governor will be pleased when he sees what we've got here. Jeff, could you help me get Wyatt Earp into the back of my vehicle and Greg, could you get me the rope out of the back of your car? If he comes around on our way back, I don't want him raising a ruckus."

Daryl didn't resist as two men lifted him by his upper arms and dragged him to one of the Navigators. They slid him onto his back across the back seat with his hands still cuffed behind him. His legs were bound around his knees and at his ankles with rope and a twisted bandana was used as a gag and tied securely.

The acquisition team arrived at Woodbury and the gates were opened. Daryl's truck was driven into the town in front of the three Lincoln Navigators and the man driving it drove half way down the main road and then turned into an alley. At the end of the alley was a large warehouse. The tall garage door was opened and Daryl's truck was driven into the warehouse followed by two of the Navigators.

Daryl was wide awake when he was pulled from the back of the Navigator he'd been riding in and he squirmed and thrashed as he was dragged to a small interrogation room. He couldn't kick because his ankles and his knees were bound and his handcuffs kept him from swinging at anyone. The damned bandana gag was still in his mouth so he couldn't yell or cuss at the sons of bitches who'd captured him. He was pushed into a wooden ladder-back chair and out came a roll of duct tape and soon he found himself securely duct taped to the chair and all alone.

The room was small and held just two chairs and a table. Daryl tried to wiggle and found that he couldn't move. His head was pounding and his muscles ached and he started to feel claustrophobic. He felt his heart start to beat faster and his chest tightened. He looked around nervously and he started to panic when he couldn't suck in enough air through the gag in his mouth and with his nose. Why the hell were these people doing this to him? 'Come on, push it down. Don't be a fuckin' pussy. You're a Dixon. Man up, push it down and breathe.'

Daryl had gotten his anxiety and his breathing under control when the door to the room swung open and a very tall, dark haired man stepped into the room.

The tall man sat down in the chair across the table from Daryl and folded his arms in front of him. He looked Daryl over not unlike someone would study a caged animal in a zoo. "You've got quite a fascinating collection of items in your truck." he said after a few minutes. "And I'm very interested in knowing where you got them and how they came to be in your possession. Now, just so we're clear. You aren't leaving this room until you tell me what I want to know and if you refuse to tell me what I want to know, I can make things extremely uncomfortable for you."

Daryl glared at the man. The tall man stood up and walked around to the other side of the table and then behind Daryl. Daryl felt the bandana gag loosen and then it fell from his mouth.

"There. That's better." said the tall man. "Oh dear, where are my manners. I haven't even introduced myself." He stepped back around the table so Daryl could see him. "I'm the administrator of this small town, but everyone calls me the governor. Do you have a name?"

Daryl didn't answer.

"Ah, I see how its going to be." the governor said. "Well let's just cut to the chase then, shall we?" He stepped behind Daryl again and then bent down and said into Daryl's ear. "You are going to tell me where you got the guns and the ammo that are in your truck and where your supply of food came from. Do you understand?"

Daryl didn't speak. This made the governor mad.

Outside of a couple of groans and a whimper he just couldn't help, Daryl still hadn't spoken when the governor opened the door to leave the room forty five minutes later. The governor rubbed his bloody knuckles as he closed the door and called out to one of the men that had just entered the narrow hallway. "Raul, is Merle back yet?"

"Yes, governor, he got back about twenty minutes ago. He had a young couple with him."

The governor smiled. "Could you find him and tell him to meet me in my office in ten minutes? I've got a very tough egg I need him to crack for me."

"Sure thing." Raul said and hurried down the hall and out the door.

* * *

"So how is everyone doin'? Shane still bangin' that skinny bitch ? What's her name again? Leah?"

"Lori," Glenn corrected. "And no. Shane's dead and Lori,..."

"That's enough, Glenn." Maggie said sharply, cutting him off in mid sentence.

Merle chuckled from where he sat in the back seat next to Maggie as Glenn drove. "Aw, come on, darlin'. We was just catchin' up is all." He looked at her and grinned a big, toothy grin.

Maggie was reminded of the shark in Jaws.

Merle continue to talk and Maggie began to be convinced that he just liked to hear the sound of his own voice.

"It's been a long time since I've seen the old gang. 'Course, after they left me handcuffed to a pipe on a blisterin' hot roof in the middle of Atlanta to fuckin' die, you'd think I'd be ripe for some vengeance, but no, not ol' Merle. We should just let bygones be bygones, ain't that right Chinaman?"

"We went back for you." Glenn said. "We really did. Daryl was devastated. He was going to put an arrow through T-Dog's head right then and there, but Rick..." Glenn's voice trailed off.

"Go on." Merle said. "Rick what? What did Rick do to my little brother?"

Glenn peeked at Maggie through the rear view mirror. She was glaring at his reflection in the mirror, her eyes wide and her mouth a thin line. He knew exactly what she was mentally saying to him. He could hear it in his mind as if it was being spoken out loud.

'Glenn. Shut. The. Hell. Up.'

"Well, I'm waiting, China, and I don't like to wait, so spit it out! What did that piece of dog shit cop do to my brother?"

Glenn swallowed. "He pulled his gun on him and told him to lower his weapon."

"Uh huh. Well don't that sound familiar. Turn left up here onto Jones Mill Road."

Glenn did as he was told.

"So Shane's gone. Everyone else still present and accounted for?"

"The night we got back from going to get you the camp was over run with walkers. We lost Amy and Ed and that older couple, the Johnsons." Glenn peeked into the mirror again and once again Maggie was giving him the wide-eyed glare of doom in an effort to get him to shut up. Glenn didn't see what the big deal was. After all, Merle had been part of the group and he just was curious as to who had survived and who hadn't. What was the harm in filling him in?

"Amy. She was Andrea's little sister, wasn't she?" Merle asked.

"Yeah. Andrea put her down herself. She was suicidal for a while afterward. Daryl helped to get her head back on straight. He confronted her and asked her if she wanted to live or not."

Merle snorted. "My baby brother, playin' psychiatrist to some uppity lawyer bitch. Now I've heard everything. Too bad about Amy. She was a sweet kid. Ed. Now that weren't no great loss."

Glenn bit his lip but didn't say anything. He and Merle were totally on the same page there, but he wasn't going to say so. "Morales and his family left and headed to Birmingham after that. They said they had family there," he told Merle. "Jim had gotten bit and we headed to the CDC to see if there was any sort of cure or something. Jim wanted to be left by the roadside so we left him and Jacqi died at the CDC when the place blew up. She chose to stay there."

"All these people droppin' like flies but Officer Friendly is still kickin'. Figures. He go after Andrea? Seems like the type that would."

"Actually, Rick is Lori's husband and Carl's dad. He was Shane's partner and best friend." Glenn said.

"_Glenn_!" Maggie snapped.

Merle smiled his big, broad, shark-like grin at Maggie and put up his hand and his knife-hand in a surrender like gesture. "Now, now, just calm down, honey. There ain't no harm in your boyfriend here fillin' ol' Merle in on what he's missed for the past several months, is there? Of course not." He reached forward and patted Glenn on the shoulder. "So Rick is Lori's husband and the brat's father. I'll be damned." He chuckled. "Best friend or not, I'll bet Shane just loved that."

Merle was actually enjoying hearing about the misery the group had endured. Served the assholes right. "Go on." he said to Glenn.

"Sophia got lost in the woods when a herd of walkers came through and one of them chased her. Carl got shot while everyone was out looking for Sophia which is how we ended up at the farm we just met you at. It's Maggie's family's farm."

"Is that so?" said Merle and he rested his eyes on Maggie.

She looked away from him and looked out the window. So this was Daryl's brother. She could see the similarities. The eyes, of course, and the well muscled arms. Some of the mannerisms were the same, too. Merle used his eyebrows a lot when expressing himself and like Daryl, he could be witty and sarcastic without even trying. Maggie could tell that Merle was strong willed like his little brother and she was sure that must have caused its own share of problems. Still, she knew that Daryl loved his loudmouthed, asshole brother. You can't choose your family, she told herself.

"Daryl went out looking for Sophia every day," Blabbermouth Glenn was telling Merle. "He made it like his personal mission to find her and it was like he was obsessed. He was the only one that went out every day and he was sure he'd find her and she'd be okay."

Merle nodded. "Daryl got lost for nine days in the forest when he was eight years old. I was off in juvi and our old man was out on a bender with some waitress. No one even knew he was missin'. He found his way back home though. That's why he was so keen on findin' the girl. He knows how it feels to be a lost kid."

Maggie turned and looked at Merle and then to her surprise, she found herself joining the conversation. "That's awful!" she said. "Daryl was out in the woods all alone for over a week and he was only eight years old? It's a miracle that he made it home all by himself!"

Merle nodded and Maggie saw the expression on his face soften. "I think something happened to him while he was lost in them woods. He was deep in the old part a the forest where its too thick to bother to go to hunt, it really is a fuckin' miracle that he found his way outta there. He was different after that, too. It was like some sort a trade was made. Part a his soul was kept by the forest and he was given a part of the forest's soul in exchange. After that he wanted to be out in the woods all the damned time and to this day, I ain't never seen someone as at home in the woods as my baby brother. He can go into a forest he ain't never been in before and it's like he's been there a million times. He never got lost again after that, no matter where we went huntin'. Hell, we went up to visit some relations in Tennessee about ten years ago and he went up into the mountains to hunt and damned if our kinfolks wasn't worried he'd never find his way back. They'd lost a son up on that mountain in them woods a couple years before. They said the woods was too thick up there an it was easy to get turned around and confused. Daryl came outta them woods as the sun was settin' with the biggest damned buck I've ever seen and a big ol' tom turkey, too." Merle smiled and the far away look in his eyes disappeared and he raised his eyebrows at Maggie.

"So did he find her? The little girl?"

Maggie dropped her eyes and Merle had his answer even before she said, "She had turned."

"Man, that's too bad. I'm sure Daryl tried his damnedest to find her."

"He did at that." Maggie said. "He almost got himself killed looking for her."

Merle sat back and said, "'Almost' only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. Dixons are tough bastards. We don't die easy. So my brother lit out a couple days ago to look for me? Doesn't it figure I'd run into the two of you after he's taken off." Merle leaned over the seat and addressed Glenn. "Turn up here onto Woodbury Road and its just another mile before we're there. Wait 'til you see it. We got over eighty people livin' in Woodbury. The town is surrounded by walls and its perfectly safe. We have solar power and gardens and large stores of food. We have community dinners and little social events. It's a regular old fashioned, friendly little town. You're gonna love it."

Maggie bit her lower lip and Glenn was wise enough not to comment. They both knew that Merle wasn't bringing them to Woodbury for an ice cream social. He wanted to know where they were staying and Maggie and Glenn were both worried about how far he would go to get the information he wanted.

**I can't type as fast as I can think and sometimes the hurrier I do the behinder I get. Quick, call the grammar police!**


	6. Chapter 6

Maggie and Glenn both noticed the armed guards on the walls and the assault weapons pointed in their direction as they approached the gate that would admit their vehicle to Woodbury.

Merle told Glenn to stop the truck and he stepped out and was immediately recognized by the guards who, Glenn noticed, seemed relieved and even happy to see Merle. The guards had been nervous when they saw Merle's vehicle approaching without Merle in the driver's seat. Glenn drove the Dodge Ram through the gates as they were opened for him and they entered Woodbury. "Pull over and park in the front of the blue house there on your right." Merle said. Glenn did as he was asked and Merle relieved him of the truck's keys and stuck them in his pocket with his only hand.

Maggie and Glenn looked around in awe. The town was a typical little southern town, with neat houses lined up along the street behind well manicured lawns. People were out and about, walking down the sidewalks, talking and laughing, clipping hedges, riding bicycles and going about their day as though the dead had never started to rise and go in search of human flesh.

Merle saw their expressions and he chuckled. "Well come on, follow me." he said.

Maggie and Glenn nodded and soon they were walking down the sidewalk behind Merle as children laughed and ran by them, chasing each other in a rough and tumble game of 'tag'.

"This is amazing." Glenn said. "Its like how things used to be."

"Ain't it nice?" Merle asked.

"I've got to admit," Maggie said as she followed behind Glenn, "this is awesome. How did you find this place?"

"I didn't." Merle said over his shoulder. "The guy in charge here, the one who had the vision for this place, we call him the governor. Well, he and a scavengin' party found me almost a month after I'd escaped from that roof in Atlanta. My arm was infected, I was sick, starvin' and damned close to dead. They took me in an' took care of me 'til I was better. I thought I'd be told to leave, but the governor said they all wanted me to stay, that they could tell I was gonna be a valuable member of the community." Merle smiled big and laughed. "Can you imagine that? Merle Dixon, a valuable member of the community! I been here ever since. It's a good place. Power, hot water, food, other people and it's protected from biters." He turned off the sidewalk and walked up a cement walkway leading to the entrance of a rather plain small white house with blue shutters.

"C'mon." he said, motioning for Maggie and Glenn to follow. They followed him and when they'd caught up to him, Merle opened the front door of the house and stepped inside. He turned and held the door open and motioned for them to enter. "Welcome to Casa de Merle." he said.

* * *

Daryl heard the door to the interrogation room open and he bit his swollen bottom lip. His head felt like it had been split open with an ax and his whole body hurt. The jerk that called himself the governor had just left after spending the last forty five minutes questioning him and hurting him when he refused to answer. There was no way in hell that Daryl was going to say a word about the lake house, no matter what they did to him. He'd die first before giving it up. The governor had given it a good try. He reminded Daryl of Shane the way he had gone after Daryl's injured hand and the wounds that still bore stitches. His left forearm was bleeding around the stitches and he could feel blood wetting his shirt where Hershel had stitched his abdominal wound closed just a couple days before. Still, the governor hadn't beat him anywhere near as badly as his old man used to, but when he'd left the room for a minute or two and returned with a ball peen hammer, Daryl had gotten really nervous.

The governor threatened to break his kneecaps with the hammer if he didn't talk. Daryl had closed his eyes and waited for the blows, but the hammer had hit the side of his right ankle instead. He had stayed strong, and it was only when the bastard started lighting cigarettes and putting them out on the back of his neck that Daryl started to fear that he was going to lose it and start screaming. He could tell the governor was getting frustrated at his lack of cooperation and he knew that the longer that he refused to speak, the worse his punishment would be getting. Then the governor did something that Daryl never expected. First, he walked over and stood behind where Daryl was restrained in the chair and Daryl could hear him fumbling in his pockets. Daryl couldn't see him and waited nervously for the governor's next move. Suddenly two hands snaked around the sides of Daryl's head, each holding a ten inch square of soft deerskin leather. The governor held the leather cloth tightly over Daryl's mouth with one hand and over Daryl's nose with the other. Daryl threw his head to the side and the governor's hands still held the leather firmly in place. Daryl couldn't breath. It was like it had been with Shane all over again.

"Tell me where you got the weapons and I'll let you go. Otherwise, I'll suffocate you." the governor hissed.

Daryl refused to answer and his chest hitched in his struggle to breathe.

"I will kill you if you don't tell me. Do you really want to die?"

No, no he didn't, but he wasn't going to tell this nut anything.

Daryl thrashed and twisted in the chair but the hands asphyxiating him would not move off his mouth and nose. He could feel himself starting to lose consciousness and he decided not to fight it anymore. He wouldn't be in pain or panicking if he passed out and that was a good thing.

The governor had pulled his hands away from Daryl's face when Daryl passed out. He pulled Daryl's head back by the hair and slapped him across the face. Daryl's eyelids fluttered and then his eyes opened. Once he got his bearings, he glared at the man who was staring at him.

"I'm not wasting any more time with you. I'm sending someone in who is an expert on torture. You'll be begging for death before he's done with you. I just want you to remember that you could have stopped this just by telling me what I want to know, but that window has closed now. You're going to experience a whole new level of pain and if you're lucky, I'll tell him to kill you quickly when he's done with you."

Daryl closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He thought about Maggie and for a second he could picture her face with her beautiful smile. He remembered her telling him that she loved him and he drew much-needed strength from her words. Fine. Bring on the fuckin' torture master. He wasn't going to tell anyone in this place anything. He was not going to put Maggie or the others in harm's way. If he had to die to keep them safe, then so be it.

A few minutes later two men came into the room. He recognized one of them as the one he had spit on when he was first captured. The two men taunted him and became angry when he wouldn't answer back to them.

"What's the matter, ugly? You forget how to talk?"

Daryl bowed his head and trained his eyes on the floor.

"Hey, jackass, look at me when I'm talking to you!" Morey shouted and he moved forward and slapped Daryl across the face. Daryl kept his eyes on the floor.

"I told you to look at me!" Morey shouted and he slapped Daryl again.

"Hey Morey, does your face hurt?" the other man asked.

"What? What the hell are you talking about Jackson? No, my face doesn't hurt. Why the hell would my face hurt?"

"'Cause it's killin' me!" Jackson snorted and then burst into laughter at his own joke. He jerked his thumb towards Daryl. "I don't blame him for not lookin' at you. Seeing that ugly mug of yours is painful," Jackson said to Morey.

"Oh ha ha, shut the fuck up." Morey grumbled. He grabbed Daryl by the hair and pulled his head back and leaned in close to his face.

Daryl's eyes looked away from the man.

Morey put his face closer to Daryl's. "You fuckin' look at me when I'm speaking to you, you shit stain!"

Morey's face was less than four inches from Daryl's.

Daryl shifted his gaze to Morey and narrowed his eyes. Then, for the second time that day, he spit in Morey's face.

"Cocksucker!" Morey yelled and he punched Daryl in the jaw with enough force to tip the chair over on its side. "Fucking bastard," Morey yelled as he kicked Daryl in the stomach. Daryl winced. Fuck, that hurt.

"Fuck this." Morey yelled and he drew his gun and pointed it at Daryl.

"Hey, Morey, settle down. Ain't time yet. Put your gun away." Jackson put his hand on Morey's shoulder.

"That's the second time the miserable asshole has spit in my face!" Morey complained.

"Well, tell you what. We'll just leave him here and go finish cataloging the stuff in his truck. Okay?"

Morey sighed. "Okay." He looked down at Daryl who was on his right side and still attached to the chair. "And you can just stay there just like that!" he snarled.

Jackson patted Morey's back and the two of them left the room.

Daryl took a deep breath as he laid on the floor still tied to the chair. He could feel blood running from his nose and mouth and he could taste it.

"Nice goin' little brother. You comfortable? Want me to get you a pillow?"

"Shut up." Daryl mumbled.

* * *

Maggie and Glenn stepped through the door of Merle's home and found themselves in the living room. There was a blue sofa and a matching love-seat in the living room on opposite sides of a coffee table and several bookcases brimming with books lined one of the walls. A big black leather recliner with a matching ottoman sat by the brick fireplace and the wooden floor was tastefully decorated with hand-made braided rugs.

Maggie and Glenn looked at each other and then looked at Merle.

"What?" he said defensively, looking at the expressions of surprise on their faces. "You think I lived in some sort a hog pen?"

"This is _your_ house?" Glenn asked.

"It sure is. Helluva deal, huh? Place of my own with no mortgage, no taxes, no utility bills."

Merle gave Maggie and Glenn the grand tour of the house. It was neat and clean with three bedrooms and two bathrooms and a full cellar. Merle showed them the back yard and Maggie and Glenn noticed he had a small garden and his tomato plants were loaded down with the large red fruits.

Glenn was amazed. This was a part of Merle he'd never seen and never suspected existed.

There was a knock on the door. "'scuse me for a sec." Merle said and he went to answer it. A short Latino man with close cropped hair was there and he spoke quietly to Merle and Merle responded in kind. The man left and Merle turned back to Maggie and Glenn.

"I got some business to tend to. Why don't you two walk around town a bit and see what you think? Talk to a few people and ask them what they think a this place. Don't y'all go tryin' to leave, though. They won't let you out of the gate without me and if you _do_ try to leave while I'm gone, it'll piss me off and you don't wanna be pissin' off Merle Dixon. That reminds me of somethin'. Chinaman...you ever hear this one? Wise ol' Chinaman Confucius say, 'better to be pissed off than pissed on.'" Merle burst into laughter and Glenn smiled good naturedly.

Merle pointed his finger at them, first at Maggie and then at Glenn, then back to Maggie. "Remember, don't be tryin' to leave without me. I'll be back later an' we can have a little discussion. You got that?"

Glenn and Maggie both nodded and Merle turned and walked out the front door.

"So what do we do now?" Maggie asked after Merle had left. "Plan our escape?"

Glenn shrugged. "Escape from what? Merle hasn't tried to hurt us and this place is pretty amazing. I say we go out and walk around a bit more. See more of this town, maybe talk to some people and find out how they ended up here. You up for that?"

Maggie nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me." she said.

"Great,"Glenn said as he opened the front door and held it open for Maggie. "After you."

* * *

Merle walked down the hall of the large old apartment building and then stood outside one of the doors. He fidgeted for a second and then loudly knocked.

"Who is it?" the governor's voice said from behind the door.

"Merle. Raul said you wanted to see me."

"I do. Come in, come in, Merle."

Merle entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. The governor was seated at his large cherry wood desk and he was leaning back in a leather chair, sipping a glass half full of whiskey. "Sit down." he said and he motioned to the leather chair directly across the desk from him.

Merle did as he was told.

The governor leaned forward and put the glass down on his desk. He reached for the crystal decanter that held the warm amber-colored liquid with one hand as he reached for another glass with the other. He placed the clean glass next to his and filled the new glass half full before adding another splash of whiskey to his own glass. After placing the crystal bottle stopper back in the decanter, he slid the newly poured glass of whiskey across the desk and towards Merle.

Merle looked at the glass.

"Drink up, Merle. I've got something I need you to do for me and I'm quite sure that you're going to enjoy doing it."

Merle lifted the glass in his left hand and tossed the whiskey down. It burned its way down his throat in a good way. He sat the glass back down on the table and looked at the governor expectantly.

The governor sighed. "Merle, you didn't even take the time to enjoy the flavor of that fine twelve year old Tullamore Dew Irish whiskey. You're supposed to drink it slowly and savor the flavor."

"Sorry," Merle said, not sounding sorry at all. "You know my tastes ain't as refined as yours are. Besides, I'm more of a J.D. man. 'Course, I'd rather have a shot of my Uncle Jedediah's moonshine then any of that mass produced shit. Now what can I do for you?"

The governor smiled. Merle had been an enforcer earlier in his life for a big time drug dealer and he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty or really rough someone up. This had become an invaluable skill when it came to tracking down supplies and resources when some people that were rounded up by the raiding parties going out from Woodbury didn't care to reveal the location of their food or weapon stashes. Merle was always able to secure their cooperation after some time in one of the interrogation rooms. He was also the governor's 'go to' guy for getting rid of any prisoners once information had been gleaned from them. Anyone who willing gave up information on food and weapon sources right away was welcomed into Woodbury and offered citizenship in the town. Those who refused to cooperate didn't get a second chance and were promptly eliminated once the information wanted had been beaten out of them.

"Morey's requisition group brought in a fellow with a truck today. He's wearing a double holster with two revolvers in it, like he thinks he's Clint Eastwood. You wouldn't believe the stuff this guy was driving around with. In his truck the guys found nine military assault rifles, six handguns in addition to the revolvers, boxes upon boxes of ammunition and two boxes of assorted grenades."

"Holy shit!" Merle exclaimed. "Where the hell did he find all that stuff? What the Feds didn't blow up at Fort Benning was picked clean a couple months ago."

The governor raised his eyebrows. "I don't know where he got it." he said as he massaged his scraped knuckles. "He wouldn't tell me; and that is where you come in, my friend. This man won't talk. I was in with him for not quite an hour and he wouldn't even tell me his name. There was no ID for him in the truck or on his person. In addition to his arsenal, he had quite a lot of food packed into that truck he was driving and several five gallon cans full of gas. Oh, and he was hauling a motorcycle in the truck bed."

Merle's eyes shot up and met the governor's and he felt his whole body tense. "A motorcycle?" He thought he was going to be sick.

"Yeah. A big black Harley. Jeff said it was a Fat Boy."

Merle exhaled deeply and smiled as his tension disappeared. It wasn't his Bonneville. Jeff had been a motorcycle mechanic before the biters started to appear and he and Merle had had some great conversations about bikes. Jeff knew his stuff and would never confuse a Triumph Bonneville with a Harley Davidson Fat Boy.

"Something wrong?" the governor asked.

Merle smirked. "Naw. For a second there I wondered if the bike was my Bonneville and if the guy they brought in was my brother."

"No, it was definitely a Harley. I looked it over myself." the governor explained. "and this man doesn't look a thing like you."

"So you want me to find out where all this stuff came from?"

"If you can." the governor said, knowing that Merle would take that as a challenge. "This man is very tight-lipped and damned tough. Morey and Jackson are over there now. I told them to rough him up a bit. I'm not sure you can get anything out of him, but I figured it would be worth a try to send you in.."

Merle snorted. "Oh, he'll talk all right. Before I'm done with him, he'll be singing like a canary and drawin' me maps and beggin' to show me how to get to the source of his food and weapons."

"Now that's what I like to hear." The governor said with a smile. "He's in Warehouse A in the third interrogation room, you know, the really small one. He's duct taped to a chair in there."

Merle nodded. "I'll head over there now."

"Just a second. I heard you brought a young couple back with you from your supply run. I take it that they're healthy and cooperative and that you think they'd be a good addition to Woodbury?"

Merle nodded. "They're in their twenties. I know the guy, he was in the group I was with before. He's Asian and damned good at making supply runs. Gets in and out really fast."

The governor looked surprised. "Didn't the group you were with before leave you handcuffed to a roof?" he asked.

"Yeah, but the kid didn't have nothin' to do with it, and he and the group were holed up at a farmhouse, the place we got them goats yesterday."

The governor smiled. "You've done well, Merle. If you can get the information we want out of the prisoner at the warehouse, I'll see that you are well rewarded for your efforts."

"Thank you." Merle said as he stood up to leave.

"Oh, and Merle," the governor added.

Merle stopped and turned to look at the tall, dark-haired man. "Yes?"

"When you're done with the prisoner, kill him and have Rodriguez feed him to the biters."

"Of course." Merle replied and he walked quickly toward the door. He had a job to do.

* * *

The governor sat back in his chair and sipped at his whiskey once the apartment door had closed and Merle was gone. He needed to know where the weapons in the stranger's truck had come from and he was confident that Merle would get him the answers he wanted. He himself had limits when it came down to inflicting pain on another person but Merle, Merle did not. Pressing the cherry red tip of the Marlboro cigarettes against the man's skin and the sickening smell that it had caused had nearly made the governor ill. He wasn't cut out to torture people, but Merle was. The governor swirled the last half inch of Irish whiskey around in the bottom of his glass and then tipped the glass up to his lips and finished it. He reached down next to his desk and brought up the Horton Scout crossbow that had been leaning against it next to him. It had been found in the stranger's truck and the governor decided that he was going to keep it for himself. It was powerful, deadly and silent. The governor held it and turned it over in his hands as he examined it. It was clean, the strings were newly waxed and it was easy to see that the weapon had been well cared for. The governor smiled and muttered, "Perfect. Just perfect."

* * *

Merle was greeted warmly by several people out and about as he strolled down the sidewalk towards the alley that led to Warehouse A. He was well known and respected in Woodbury and what he still found to be amazing after all this time was that he was also popular and well liked. Merle Dixon had never been popular or well liked in his whole life. It was funny, really.

There was an arena in the center of town where the fights were held. These contests happened once a week and the whole town came out to see them and to cheer for their favorites. The fights were similar to the wrestling matches people used to watch on television back when there was such a thing. The contests were similar, with one man pitted against another in a no holds barred fight. Only instead of the rope enclosed fighting area the televised wrestling matches had used to contain their fights, Woodbury had the arena's dirt floor and walkers chained in a circle about six feet from one another. The fight contestants would fight in the circle formed by the walkers and try their damnedest not to let their opponent push them into the snarling walkers that hungrily grasped and reached for them as the opponents fought. The teeth had been removed from all the walkers so they couldn't bite the fighters, but the spectators didn't know that and it made the fights all the more exciting to them. Merle was by far the townspeople's favorite fighter. He was theatrical, a damned good fighter and he knew how to work a crowd. Merle didn't think he'd ever been happier in his life than when he was standing in the middle of the arena, surrounded by the sounds of snarling walkers and the townspeople all shouting,"Merle! Merle! Merle!" It was music to his ears.

Woodbury was Merle's town. He had never felt like he belonged anywhere in his life until he had come here. This was his home and the townspeople were his people and he would do whatever he had to do to keep them fed and protected from threats.

Merle started whistling Hank William's "Tear in my Beer,"as he turned and walked down the alley towards the warehouse. He was still whistling as he jogged up the steps to the old 'employees only' entrance to the warehouse and then opened the door and went inside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7! Only 80 chapters to go! Okay, I'm kidding. I really don't know how long this story is going to be, but rest assured, it won't be anywhere near as long as Exile. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this story and thank you for your reviews. I appreciate them more than you know. (Because I'm a review whore.)**

Daryl heard the door open slowly and then the sound of footsteps entering the room. He could tell by the sound of the footfalls on the cement floor that there was only one person there. Was it the torture expert? The door closed and whomever was in the room walked towards him.

"Hey, shithead!" It was Morey's voice. "You know, the guy whose coming in here next is going to work you over good before he kills you. I just realized a minute ago that next time I see you, you'll be dead and we'll be feeding you to biters and I still owe you some payback for spitting in my face, you fucking bastard."

Screw that, Daryl thought. Morey had hit him in the jaw good and hard and kicked him in the stomach not even ten minutes ago.

"I figured it'd be a real shame for you to die before I could even the score with you, asshole, so here I am."

Daryl's mouth went into gear before his brain was engaged and could stop it and he surprised Morey by speaking to him for the first time since he'd been captured at Fort Benning.

"So here you are. Ain't I just the lucky one, with you gracin' me with your presence and all. Unless, of course, I've gotta look at that butt-ugly face a yours. Now _that's_ torture." Shit, why couldn't he just keep his damned mouth shut?

Daryl heard hurried footfalls as Morey closed the distance to where he was still strapped to the chair on the floor.

"Why you cock sucking.."

Daryl's traitorous mouth interrupted Morey, "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't cha?"

Morey liked it better when the asshole had kept his mouth shut. He now stood two feet behind Daryl and he brought his foot back. "Suck on this, shitbag!" he yelled as his foot connected with the top of Daryl's head.

Daryl sucked in a breath as a sharp pain tore through his skull like a bolt of lightning. A blinding flash of light burst behind his eyelids as the agonizing, painful jolt exploded inside his head. It was too much for his body and mind to push down or deal with and Daryl welcomed the darkness as it embraced him.

Morey leaned forward and spit on Daryl before leaving the room.

* * *

Merle burst into the interrogation room five minutes later. "Now the fun starts!" he announced to the room with a grin. He was surprised to see the chair the prisoner was bound to on it's left side on the floor. It was facing away from him and he chuckled as he nudged the back of the chair with his foot. "Pretty hard to make a getaway with a piece a furniture strapped to your back, ain't it?" The prisoner didn't move or respond which didn't surprise Merle. The governor had said that the guy hadn't spoken at all. "Guess we got us a bit of a delay, so instead of right now, the fun will start in just a few minutes," Merle said. "Now don't you go runnin' off. I'll be right back," and with that said, Merle left the room to go in search of Morey and Jackson.

He found them in the break room drinking coffee and eating donuts. "Hey, Merle." Jackson said in greeting as Merle entered the room. "Want a donut? Old Mrs. Rogers made 'em for us."

"Sure, I'll get myself a cup a coffee, too." Merle said. "And while I'm doing that, I want you two to go and get the prisoner in room three upright in that chair again. I can't get started on him when he's all tipped over on the floor like that."

"Sure, Merle." Morey said getting quickly to his feet. "I'm glad the governor sent you over. This one's a real douchebag. Spit in my face twice."

Merle smiled as he reached into the large paper bag of donuts on the counter and pulled one out. "I'll make sure I teach him some manners for you, Morey." he said.

Morey grinned and turned to Jackson who had just finished stuffing the last half of his donut into his mouth. "Come on," Morey said, "let's go and get the douchebag and his chair off the floor."

The two men left the room and Merle poured himself a cup of coffee. He held the donut in his mouth and carried his coffee cup to the break room table. He set it on the table and sat down. Merle took a bite of the donut and followed it with a swallow of black coffee. He smirked. Jackson had made the coffee. He could tell because it was ridiculously strong and Jackson was the only one who made it this strong. Merle liked Jackson's coffee. He took another bite out of the lightly spiced donut and licked the crumbs from his lips. He could taste the hints of cinnamon and nutmeg in the donut and it reminded him of the donuts his mother used to make back when he was a very young boy.

* * *

Mrs. Rogers was the oldest resident of Woodbury at eighty-seven years of age. She was sharp as a tack and spry for a woman her age and she was everyone's 'grandma'. She wore her white hair in a bun and she favored old fashioned, cat's eye glasses with thick lenses that made her dark grey eyes look huge. She was still very self sufficient and could be seen on sunny days hanging her laundry out on her clothes line as she stood her 4'9" frame on tiptoes to secure the clothespins to the line. She had been given a ground floor apartment in the same building as the governor and she was one of the governor's favorite people. One morning she had met him outside the building as she was tending the flowers and she had lamented to him about the oven in her apartment. It only worked sporadically and she wondered if he could help her to procure one that was more reliable. If he could, she would gladly reward him with all sorts of cookies and other delectable baked goods at regular intervals.

The governor had said he would be delighted to assist her and an acquisition team had made a run to Home Depot that very afternoon. Mrs. Rogers whole kitchen had been remodeled and fitted with the latest stainless steel appliances and with a new Kitchen Aide mixer and a Bausch grinder for grinding wheat berries into flour. The old woman had been delighted and grateful and was constantly showing her appreciation to the governor and his men by showering them with delicious homemade baked goods.

* * *

Merle had just finished his second donut when Jackson and Morey returned to the break room.

"Got him upright for you." Jackson said. "but he ain't awake. We poked an' prodded him a bit, but he didn't wake up for us. Probably hit his head when the chair fell over."

Morey wasn't about to admit what he'd done to the prisoner.

"He ain't dead, is he?" Merle asked. He would be some pissed off if the prisoner had died before he'd gotten his chance to get some information out of him.

"Nah, he's still breathin'." Morey answered.

"Good enough." Merle said as he stood up. "Time for me to get to work."

"Hold up a second, Merle," Jackson said as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a piece of paper and held it out to Merle. "Inventory list of what was in the truck," Jackson explained.

Merle took the list from Jackson with his left hand. His eyes scanned the paper and he raised his eyebrows. "Ares Shrikes? AK74U? Fuckin' Commandos? That's some impressive firepower." Merle read further down the list and grinned a big, wolfish grin. "One hundred and seventy-seven cans of Chef Boyardee pasta? Three cases of Pop Tarts? Eight bags of Cheetos? How old is the driver of this truck, twelve?"

"No, he looks to be mid, maybe late thirties," Jackson volunteered.

Merle read further down the list. "Three ziplock bags of cookies." he read aloud. He raised his gaze and looked from Morey to Jackson. "Are these cookies homemade?" he asked.

Jackson and Morey looked at each other and Morey gave Jackson a slight nod.

Jackson smiled at Merle and said, "Yeah, and there's actually four bags." He reached behind the coffee canister on the shelf behind him and held a ziplock bag out to Merle.

Merle looked at the bag. it was half full of homemade chocolate chip cookies. He smirked at the two men that stood in front of him. "So you shared the donuts but were holdin' out on me with the cookies. For shame, for shame."

Morey and Jackson mumbled their apologies and Merle laughed.

"They any good?" he asked the two men as he opened the bag.

"Like a little piece of heaven." Morey answered.

Merle reached into the bag with his left hand. He fished a cookie out and popped it into his mouth. "Shit, you ain't kiddin'." he said to Morey with his mouth full of cookie. He went to snag another cookie out of the bag when he noticed a small piece of paper wrapped in clingy plastic wrap at the bottom of the bag, hiding beneath the cookies. He removed it from the bag and held it up.

"You guys see this?" he asked.

Jackson hadn't.

Morey had but he figured it was just the recipe for the cookies so he hadn't paid any attention to it.

Merle shoved the plastic wrapped note into his pocket.

"Um...Merle?". Morey asked timidly.

Merle had always gotten a kick out of the fact that Morey was intimidated by him. Morey was at least four inches taller than he was and probably outweighed Merle by forty pounds. "Yeah?" Merle responded.

"Do you still need us here? I mean.."

"All the firearms and weaponry under lock and key?" Merle asked.

Both men answered in the affirmative.

Merle blessed them with one of his big toothy grins. "Great! Get the hell outta here then. Enjoy the rest of the day."

Morey and Jackson fell all over themselves to thank Merle and got tangled up for a few seconds as they both tried to exit through the doorway at the same time.

* * *

Merle shook his head once the pair was gone. "Idiots." he mumbled to himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper and removed the plastic wrap that was around it. He unfolded the note and looked it over. The handwriting was exquisite and feminine. Merle began to read.

'My dearest and most ferocious Tiger,'

Merle snorted. "Tiger? You've got to be kidding me."

'Please enjoy these on your journey north and I selfishly hope that they might give you pause to think of me. I am going to miss you so much. I love you with all of my heart and soul and I hope and pray that you'll return. This is your home. I am yours and if you'd let me, I'd follow you to the ends of the earth. You are my everything and we belong together, not apart like this. Why can't you see that, my beautiful, stubborn Tiger? When you tire of your adventure, please come home to me. I'll be waiting.

All my love, Maggie'

Maggie? Merle read the note again and furrowed his brow. No, it couldn't be the Maggie he'd met today. If the prisoner that was caught in Fort Benning was going north, then he had started his journey south of Fort Benning. The Maggie that Merle had run into today was holed up quite a ways north of Fort Benning so she couldn't be the one that had written this cheesy love note. Merle pulled another cookie out of the bag and bit into it. Shit, if Cheesy Love Note Writing Maggie could fuck as well as she cooked, he might try to go and find her himself after he killed her boyfriend. Merle grinned. He'd be sure to include some questions about Maggie when he interrogated the prisoner. That might get him to crack if he thought she had been captured. Merle finished his cookie and his coffee and tucked the note into his front pocket. He stood up and stretched. It was time to get to work.

Merle whistled a cheery tune as he walked down the hall to the interrogation room. He let himself inside the room and locked it behind him before turning towards the prisoner.

Merle grinned when he saw that the ladder back chair was upright now. The prisoner sat strapped in it with his back to Merle. The prisoner's head was tilted forward and Merle figured he must still be unconscious. He'd just have to wake the asshole up. Merle grabbed the prisoner by the hair and pulled his head back. "Time to wake up assh..." Merle stopped in mid sentence. His mouth was suddenly bone dry inside and he lost his ability to speak.

The color left Merle's face and his eyes grew wide as he recognized the man that sat strapped to the chair in front of him. It couldnt be. There was no way it could be. This had to be a bad dream. Merle stared at the damaged and bloody yet all too familiar face and it felt like his world had suddenly shattered and crashed around his feet.

"Daryl?" He croaked. "_Daryl_?! Oh God, no!" He clenched his fist and stamped his foot. "No, no _no_! _Fucking hell!"_

Conflicting emotions washed over Merle like ocean waves. Happiness at finally having found his brother, sadness at the shape Daryl was in, anger at those who had done this and regret that he hadn't been able to protect his little brother.

"Daryl? Can you hear me?" Merle grasped his brother's chin to hold his head up and took a good look at his face. His baby brother looked terrible. Daryl's closed eyelids were swollen and his nose had obviously been broken and there was a row of ugly stitches on his forehead. Blood ran in small streams from his nose and from the right side of his mouth and from a cut below his right eye. Merle released his brother's chin and Daryl's head fell forward. Merle placed a hand on his brother's chest to reassure himself that his brother was still alive and felt a wave of relief wash over him as he felt and saw it slowly rise and fall.

Merle looked over to the door and saw what he was looking for. The key to the handcuffs was hanging on a small nail in the wall next to the doorpost. Merle retrieved the key and knelt behind his brother and with his one hand, he unlocked and removed the cuffs from Daryl's wrists.

Merle put his hand on Daryl's left shoulder and shook it. "Daryl? Come on, boy, open your eyes for your big brother Merle."

Daryl didn't move and Merle got to work cutting through the duct tape around his brother's legs and ankles. He had started to work on removing the duct tape from around Daryl's torso when he heard his little brother groan and saw his head loll to the right.

Merle smiled. "Hey, baby brother. Long time no see."

Daryl mumbled something incomprehensible and Merle finished cutting through the duct tape and yanked it off. With nothing to hold him in place, Daryl began to tumble off the chair. Merle caught Daryl with his left arm. He eased himself down onto the floor as he lowered Daryl next to him and Merle slid backwards on his butt as he held onto and dragged his brother with him.

Merle continued to slide backwards until his back was resting against the wall behind him. He pulled Daryl into a sitting position next to him against the wall. Daryl moaned again and Merle surprised himself when he wrapped his left arm around his brother's shoulders and pulled him close to him in something that resembled a hug. "Shhhh...its okay. You're gonna be alright. Big brother Merle is here now and he's not gonna let nobody hurt you no more."

"Shut up." Daryl mumbled and Merle looked at him with surprise. "You ain't really here." he muttered.

Daryl had a pounding headache and the rest of his body didn't feel so great, either. He slowly became aware of the arm around his shoulders. Was Maggie there? Daryl slowly raised his head and tried to focus on the person sitting next to him. He blinked and brought up a trembling hand to wipe at his puffy eyes. He swallowed and sighed. He was seeing things. Imaginary Merle had now become not only a voice in his head, but an illusion appearing right before his eyes, just like back in the ravine that day. "You ain't real." he mumbled to the apparition.

Merle watched Daryl slowly regain his senses and it made his heart hurt. He patted his brother's shoulder. "I'm here with you and I'm real. Real as you are, baby brother."

Daryl brought up his shaky right hand and reached for his brother's face. He rested his bandaged hand against the left side of Merle's face, running his bloody fingertips down his cheek and then through the stubble along Merle's jaw-line.

Merle saw his younger brother's eyes widen and the corners of his broken lips turned up into a faint smile. "Merle." Daryl said in almost a whisper. "you're really here."

Merle smiled and no, that couldn't be tears he felt threatening to sneak from the corners of his eyes. "Yeah, I'm really here." Merle said.

Daryl's head was swimming and he was pulled back down into darkness. His hand slipped from Merle's face and his eyelids fluttered and closed as he slumped against his older brother.

Daryl's head fell against Merle's chest and Merle sighed and ran his only hand through his brother's hair. He had to get Daryl out of there, but how the hell was he going to do that? He shook Daryl by the shoulder again but Daryl didn't move.

Merle was suddenly hit with understanding and he groaned as he realized what a huge clusterfuck he had just unearthed. The supplies Daryl had in his truck had come from the place he'd been staying before he'd left it a couple days ago. Maggie and Glenn had been at this place with Daryl, so they knew where it was. They knew the location of one big ass cache of weapons and food. Merle raised his eyebrows as another revelation struck him and he looked down at his injured brother's face. "You're 'Tiger'?" he muttered in disbelief.

Merle sighed. This mess was just getting worse in leaps and bounds.


	8. Chapter 8

Merle walked down the alley towards Main Street as quickly as he could. He exited the alley and headed down the street to where Glenn had parked his truck. Merle had wanted Glenn and Maggie to walk to his house from the truck so they could get a feel for the friendliness and the sense of community in Woodbury. Now he was glad that the truck was parked where it was as it was right around the corner from the warehouse.

As Merle came out of the alley he nearly ran into Rodriguez, surprising both himself and the other man.

"Hey, Dixon," Rodriguez said with a smile. "I'm so glad I ran into you. I was just coming to find you."

"Oh yeah?" Merle asked. "What for?"

Rodriguez jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans like he was nervous. "I wanted to see if I could ask you for a favor."

Merle grinned. This was perfect, because he wanted to tell Rodriguez that he would be disposing of the prisoner's body so Rodriguez wouldn't be showing up later at the warehouse. "Sure, ask away," Merle said.

Rodriguez scratched his shaved head, and said, "It's my daughter's fifth birthday today and I kind of wanted the evening off. The governor said you're gonna have a body for me to feed to the biters tonight and I was wondering if..."

"Say no more, my friend. Consider it done." Merle said, hardly believing his luck. Merle knew that Rodriguez had lost his wife and kids to the biters and that when a birthday or his anniversary rolled around, he would go off by himself to reflect and remember better days. "I was just goin' to take care of it now. Guy was already dead when I went in to question him."

Rodriguez shook his head. "Let me guess. Morey was in roughing him up before you got there."

Merle sighed and said, "Yeah. He really had it in for this guy, too. Said the guy had spit on him a couple times."

Rodriguez made a face. "Oooo," he said to Merle, "I'll bet that went over like a fart in church. Guy was probably dead five minutes after Morey got into the room with him."

"Governor ain't gonna be too happy about this at all."

"No, he's not. This makes three times in the last few weeks that Morey's killed a captive before we could get any real useful information from them. Makes me damned glad I'm not the one that has to tell the governor about it," Rodriguez said, then he clapped Merle on the shoulder. "Hey, Dixon, thanks for takin' care of disposal duty for me. I owe you one."

Merle chuckled, "And you know I'll collect on it one of these days."

"I'm countin' on it," Rodriguez said and he smiled. For an asshole, Merle Dixon wasn't such a bad guy.

The two men walked off in separate directions and Merle walked as quickly as he could to his parked truck. He removed the knife blade from his right arm brace once he'd slid behind the wheel of his Dodge Ram and then he started it up and drove it down the alley to the warehouse. He parked near the "Employees Only" entrance and walked around to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door.

Merle ran up the steps and burst through the door into the hallway. He looked up and down the hall, hoping he would find it empty. Everything was quiet and no one was in sight and he stepped over in front of interrogation room three. He worked his left hand quickly to unlock the door and stepped into the room.

* * *

Daryl was still sitting propped up in the corner against the walls where Merle had left him. Merle approached him and crouched down next to him. He reached out and took hold of Daryl's right shoulder and shook it. "Come on, Daryl, we gotta go," he said, "and we gotta go now."

Daryl didn't move and Merle shook him again. "Daryl!" Merle hissed, "Wake the fuck up!"

Daryl opened his eyes a crack and muttered, "Stop shakin' me. I'm afuckin'wake, dammit."

"Come on, get on your feet, afore I have to kick your ass to get you standin'." Merle said as he grabbed Daryl's left upper arm and hauled him to his feet.

The sudden change in elevation caused a sharp pain to tear through Daryl's skull and he winced. His legs wobbled and he grabbed on to Merle to keep from toppling over. Merle put his left arm behind Daryl's back and grabbed on to his belt to keep him upright as he pulled Daryl in to lean on him.

"Christ," Daryl mumbled as he rested his head against Merle's shoulder. "Appreciate the help, but you don't need to be givin' me a fuckin' wedgie."

Merle grinned. "There you go," he said, "always bitchin' about something."

"Shut up," Daryl mumbled.

"You shut up," Merle said as he helped Daryl to the door. "I don't know if anyone's still around so keep your mouth shut." Merle peeked out of the doorway and looked up and down the hallway to make sure the way was clear. "Now here's the deal, I'm gonna say I wasn't able to question you 'cause you were already dead by the time I got to you. This will get Morey in a shitload of trouble and no one will be lookin' for you. I already told that story to one of the guys."

"Why the hell..." Daryl began.

"Just shut up and do as I say, dammit!" Merle snarled in as much of a whisper as he could muster while snarling. "There's a security camera outdside right over the stairs in front of the employee entrance. My truck is parked at the bottom of the stairs and I'm gonna carry you out to it, you got it?".

"Like hell you are. I can walk, I ain't no invalid." Daryl snapped.

"Shut up!" Merle hissed. "did you hear a fuckin' thing I just said to you, dummy? You're supposed to be dead! Now you're gonna fuckin' play dead an' I'm gonna carry your dead ass out to my truck, you got that? When we get to my place I don't care if you wanna do cartwheels and somersaults and bounce off the walls, but 'til we get there, you play dead and you don't move. Is that clear?"

Daryl swallowed and nodded. Merle was already bossing him around, just like old times. He wasn't in any shape to argue and his head ached like hell and he was already so dizzy that he could barely stand. Keeping still and playing dead would probably be easy.

"Okay, here we go." Merle said and he swung his right arm under Daryl's knees and placed his left arm behind Daryl's back level with his shoulder blades. With one swift motion, Daryl went from standing and leaning against his brother to being held in Merle's strong arms.

"Well ain't this romantic." Daryl grumbled.

Merle snorted and stifled a laugh. "You wear that lacey negligée under that wedding dress a yours, Darleena?" Merle whispered as he stepped out into the hall.

"Don't be trippin' over the threshold and droppin' me, honey." Daryl whispered. Merle snorted again and Daryl bit his lower lip to keep from giggling.

Merle cleared his throat and got serious again. "Quit goofin' around and play dead," he ordered quietly.

"You fuckin' started it." Daryl whispered. He closed his eyes, relaxed all his muscles and let his head fall back and his left arm hang loosely away from his body. Letting his head hang like that made him even dizzier and he hoped he wouldn't pass out.

"Did not." Merle whispered back to Daryl and he stepped out of the building. He had gone down two stairs when someone hollered his name. Merle looked up. Morey was walking down the alley toward the warehouse. "Shit," Merle mumbled and he quickly continued down the steps with Daryl in his arms.

Morey had left his jacket in the break room and had come back to retrieve it. He jogged up to Merle and caught up to him as Merle stepped off the last step. "You're already done with that asshole?" Morey asked, jerking his thumb at Daryl.

Merle pushed the passenger side door of his truck open with his hip. He swung around to get Daryl into the truck and heard a dull thunk as Daryl's head struck the edge of the doorframe. He winced and made a mental note to apologize to Daryl for that later. For a second Merle was afraid that Daryl would start cussing him out and blow his plan all to hell, but Daryl stayed still and quiet.

"Already done? Shit, Morey, what did you do to the guy before I went in to question him? When I got into the room he was gaspin' for breath and before I could say a damned thing to him, he stopped breathing altogether. He died before I could get a word out of him. Put my knife through the back if his head so he wouldn't turn, now I'm just takin' out the trash."

Morey peeked into Merle's truck at the douchebag lying across the front seat. Merle stepped in front of Morey and slammed the truck's door.

Shit!" Morey exclaimed. "I never should have kicked him in the head. The governor is going to be royally pissed off at me."

Merle felt the anger instantly rise up inside him. "You kicked him in the head? What the hell for!?" he shouted.

"I told you, he spit in my face!" Morey shouted back. His face was getting red.

"That weren't no reason to kill him!" Merle yelled, stepping right up and into Morey's face. He figured he'd rub Morey's nose in it a bit more. "Now we've got no fuckin' clue as to where all the damned weapons and food this guy was loaded down with came from. All because you lost your temper! You're right. This ain't gonna sit right with the governor. Not at all."

Morey stepped back away from Merle and scowled and scratched his head. He was slowly realizing that he was in deep shit. "Couldn't you just tell the governor that he died while you were questioning him? I mean, it's happened before, hasn't it?"

Merle shook his head. "Noooooo, it hasn't. Anyone I ever questioned that ended up dead didn't die until I had all the information they could give me. See, Morey, your problem is that you got it backasswards. You're supposed to kill them _after_ you question them, not before."

Morey sighed and Merle got into the truck and started it. He gave Morey a nod and turned the truck around quickly and drove down the alley. Merle turned right and drove up to the gates. Ken Pearson, a white-blonde haired, dark blue-eyed kid in his early twenties was in charge of checking vehicles in and out of the town gates that day. Merle liked the kid. He had taught Ken how to shoot and how to use a knife and the kid practically worshipped the ground Merle walked on.

"Hi Mr. Dixon," Ken said as he approached Merle's truck.

"Hey, Ken. I'm just goin' out to feed the biters. Got a body here that I need to dispose of."

Ken nodded. "You need any help?" he asked.

Merle grinned. "Nah, I got it. Thanks, though."

Ken motioned to two men standing near the gate and they pulled it open and let Merle drive through.

* * *

Maggie and Glenn sat under an oak tree next to the library drinking lemonade from paper cups and eating ginger snap cookies. A young woman with long brown hair wearing a baseball cap was sitting with them and telling them a bit about Woodbury.

"I've been here for four months now," she said. "I lost my whole family and my fiancé when the outbreak started." She was quiet for a second, remembering her losses.

Glenn nodded. "Me, too." he said. "Except for the fiancé part."

The young woman smiled at him. "My cousin found me at my family's house and we got out of Atlanta just before the army started dropping napalm in the streets. Thank God we were on a motorcycle. He was able to weave around the cars that were at a standstill and get us out of the city just in time. It was awful. People were screaming as they burned."

Maggie glanced over at Glenn. He seemed mesmerized watching and listening to the young woman. What had she said her name was again?

"I'm so sorry that you had to go through that, Haley." Glenn said sympathetically.

Haley smiled at Glenn and said, "I'm sure we've all got horror stories we could tell. We fell in with a group for a while. Turned out that they were a sketchy bunch and we ended up having to escape from them when they decided the group needed to be 'culled'. We didn't do so well on our own. We were starving and my cousin was deathly ill. We were just lucky that Merle Dixon and Lenny Jackson found us while they were out searching for supplies. They brought us here and we've been here ever since."

Glenn raised his eyebrows. Merle Dixon had rescued this girl and her cousin?

"Do you like it here?" Maggie asked.

Haley laughed. "Are you kidding? I love it here! I can close my eyes at night and go to sleep without fear, I can take a shower when I want to, I can cook a meal in my kitchen and I can walk around outside without having to be on my guard for biters. With the way the world is now, who could ask for more?"

Glenn grinned. "Good points." he said.

Haley sat back and leaned on her arms as she stretched them out behind her and Maggie couldn't help but think that she did that to push her chest out and make it more noticeable. Maggie saw Glenn's eyes zero in on Haley's chest and then quickly look away. She'd hit the nail on the head. Haley was flirting with Glenn. Maggie bit her lip to keep from smiling as Glenn's cheeks flushed red.

"So, are you two together? I mean romantically, as a couple?"

Glenn and Maggie looked at each other and they both replied, "No." at the same time and then Glenn felt the need to elaborate.

"We were until recently, but now we're just good friends." he explained and he took a sip of lemonade.

Haley smiled. "These days you can never have enough good friends." she said. "So, have you been given a choice of houses or apartments yet?"

Glenn and Maggie looked at each other.

"Oh we're not staying." Maggie said, "We're just visiting."

Haley gave them a puzzled look. "You're not staying? Why would you want to leave? There isn't any place safer than Woodbury and we've got plenty of food, we've got electricity, running water."

"We have all that where we're staying, too." Glenn volunteered and Maggie wanted to kick him.

"Really?" Haley asked, "so why are you here?"

Maggie spoke before Glenn could, "We ran into Merle Dixon while we were at the farm where I used to live. He used to be in a group with Glenn so they recognized each other. He invited us here and said he'd give us the grand tour, but something came up. He said he had some 'business to tend to' and told us to walk around town and check things out."

Haley sat up. "Hey, you guys want to come and see my apartment? It isn't far from here at all."

"Sure!" Glenn said eagerly.

"Why not?" agreed Maggie.

The three of them stood up from where they'd flattened out a patch of grass under the oaks. Maggie and Glenn followed Haley across the library lawn, stopping only to deposit their paper cups into a trash can.

Maggie watched as three young boys laughed and yelled as they raced down the street on their bicycles and she smiled. Woodbury did seem like a nice, safe place in an unsafe and not so nice world.

* * *

Merle drove towards the old granite quarry about three miles from town where a large rectangular pit had been dug. It was a holding pit for walkers and there were about fifty of them in there, milling about. Bodies were routinely disposed of by just tossing them in the pit and letting the walkers eat them. No muss, no fuss.

Merle glanced down quickly at Daryl as he drove and returned his gaze to the roadway. Daryl was curled up on the bench seat next to Merle and Merle sighed to himself when he saw what a bloody mess Daryl was. Merle reached down with his stump and rested it on his younger brother's shoulder. "You okay?" he asked.

"Peachy. Thanks for nailing my head on the doorframe." Daryl grumbled.

"Shut up, it ain't like I done it on purpose." Merle said.

"You sure about that?" Daryl asked.

"What the hell kind of question is that?! Course I'm sure," Merle retorted. "Dumb ass!"

"Stop yellin'...please." Daryl said quietly. "My head already feels like its gonna fuckin' explode."

Merle was hit with a pang of guilt but quickly pushed it away. "Okay, no more yellin'. I promise. You feel up to answerin' some questions? 'Cause I've got a shitload of them to ask you."

Daryl groaned. "Can it wait? My head hurts like hell and talkin's just makin' it worse."

Merle nodded and patted Daryl's shoulder with his stump. "Sure thing, baby brother, it can wait. Just wanna say, though, that it sure is nice to see your face again, even if it is all beat to shit."

Daryl had closed his eyes and he smiled weakly. "Nice to see yours, too." he muttered.

**I'm sorry that this chapter wasn't action packed and thrilling, but things will pick up soon. Maybe. **


	9. Chapter 9

Merle parked his truck about twenty feet from the walker holding pit. He turned off the engine and opened the truck's door.

Daryl cracked one eye open and moved his head so he could see Merle. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

Merle snorted. "Why I'm feeding you to the biters, of course."

Both of Daryl's eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly, scrambling back on the seat until his back hit the passenger door. "You asshole!" he said and his voice broke. He reached for the door handle but before he was able to open the door and get out of the truck, Merle caught hold of him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him towards him across the front seat.

"I was kidding!" he hissed. "Good Lord, do you really think I'd do something like that to you?"

Daryl's cheeks reddened and he dropped his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe."

Merle shoved Daryl backward and pinned him against the passenger side door. He got right into Daryl's face and Daryl kept his eyes down, avoiding looking into his older brother's face.

"Look at me." Merle said.

"Why?" Daryl mumbled.

"Because I fuckin' said so, that's why!" Merle roared.

Daryl winced as his head reacted to the shouting and he kept his eyes averted.

Merle blew out a breath. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… you know.. but.. shit…dammit Daryl, _fuckin' look at me when I'm talkin' to you__!"_ He started off quietly as he spoke, but he was shouting again by the time he finished his sentence.

Daryl lifted his gaze to meet Merle's eyes. He was dizzy again and the little man with the jack hammer inside his head had brought out the really big jack hammer and was pounding away. Daryl was having a hell of a time concentrating on what Merle was saying and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes trained on Merle.

Merle was concerned. He didn't like the way his brother's eyes would zero in on him and then start to drift and then zero in on him again. "You still with me?" he asked.

"Yeah. Still here." Daryl muttered.

Merle sighed. "I know I've been a shitty big brother," he said, "and there ain't no goin' back and correctin' all the shit I did wrong, but I'm a different person now. Been clean for the last five months and things are a lot clearer now an' I know what's really important."

Daryl was impressed. Merle hadn't been off the drugs for years.

"One thing that's really important is kin." Merle said. "We're kin, baby brother, we got the same blood flowing through our veins. We're Dixons, you and me. We had the same damned mean bastard for a father and a weak submissive mother. You an' me, we've had our backs against the wall and been fightin' to get by all our lives." Merle put his hand on Daryl's shoulder. "I just want you to know I'm sorry for bein' such a shit ass brother and for now on I've got your back, no matter what. I'd never do nothing to hurt you, not on purpose, anyway. Shit, Daryl, it hurts that you think I'd fuckin' throw you into a pit full a biters."

"Mmm sorry." Daryl mumbled.

Merle watched as Daryl's eyes wandered again and then blinked before they closed.

Daryl didn't even notice that he'd closed his eyes and his head had started to fall forward until he felt Merle's rough hand grasp his chin and yank his head up. He opened his eyes again and raised his eyebrows slightly at the expression on Merle's face. Merle actually looked like he was worried.

"What, am I boring you or are you passin' out here?" Merle narrowed his eyes at Daryl and he watched Daryl's eyes wander again and then look down. Merle felt red hot anger rising up inside of him. "Shit, that bastard Morey really fucked you up, didn't he. I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch!"

"No,"' Daryl said, "don't be gettin' into it with that.."

Merle moved the hand holding Daryl's chin up and covered his brother's mouth with it. "Don't be tellin' me what and what not to do! The guy fuckin kicked you in the head, baby brother! He coulda killed you and you're tellin' me you want me to leave it be? Just let him get away with it?"

Daryl nodded behind Merle's hand.

Merle sighed. "You must be fuckin' nuts."

"I just don't think it'd be any too wise to be callin' attention to yourself is all." Daryl said, his words muffled behind Merle's hand but still understandable. "And get your filthy hand offa my mouth."

Merle grinned and dropped his hand from Daryl's mouth. "Don't you mean 'get your hand off my filthy mouth'?"

Daryl winced and sucked in a breath as one of those damned sudden sharp pains tore through his skull.

Merle put his hand on Daryl's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Is your head achin' bad?" Merle asked.

"Somethin' awful". Daryl admitted.

Merle nodded. He'd never liked seeing Daryl like this. "You dizzy? Feel like you wanna sleep?"

Daryl smirked, "Fuck, yeah."

Merle had been through situations like this with Daryl before. He knew Daryl needed to get a lot of rest over the next few days in order to heal and get his head straightened out. Daryl had been the recipient of several head injuries in the past, starting when their father began beating the hell out of him when he was just a young kid. Merle had had his share of blows to the head, but Daryl'd been clocked in the noggin so many times over the years that Merle was surprised that Daryl wasn't a blithering idiot or institutionalized somewhere in a permanent coma.

"Good thing you got a rock hard skull, little brother. Let me help get you into the back seat and you can take a siesta there. I've got a sheet I can throw over you so no one will see you when we go back through the gates and into town."

"Don't need no help." Daryl grumbled in response and he slowly pulled himself up and over the seat back. Merle watched him as he laid himself down on his right side on the back seat, facing away from him.

"I can give you something to help your head when we get to my place." Merle said to Daryl's back. "I couldn't just take you there without coming here first. I had to make it look like I'd disposed of a body or else I'd raise suspicions."

Daryl grunted in reply.

"Now listen up 'cause this here is some important shit. You listenin'?"

Daryl mumbled something undecipherable and Merle said, "I'll take that as a 'yes'. Now here's the deal; after we get your headache squared away, we gotta get you in the shower. You really stink, little brother. I'm talkin' nasty, killer B.O. here. You smell just awful. So bad it could make a skunk puke. Hell, I'm surprised I ain't pukin' right now..." Merle went on a bit more about how vile Daryl's 'killer B.O.' was before he was ready to drop the subject.

Daryl was silent but he heard Merle's words. They sounded like they were being spoken from somewhere far away, but he understood them and he smiled. He'd spent a lot of time in the sun the last couple of days moving vehicles and sweating, sweating, sweating. Then he'd been rained on. Of course he stunk. He felt a thin, light sheet cover him and then Merle's hand was pulling it up over his head. "Just be still, baby brother. Be still and big brother Merle will take care of everything."

Daryl relaxed. After being thrown into the mess he had found himself in earlier that day, that was just what he needed to hear.

* * *

Maggie sat in the rocking chair in Haley's living room and watched as Haley tried to show Glenn how to ready her compound bow for firing. Glenn stood holding a blunt arrow against the string and Maggie watched the arrow point up, down and to the sides as Glenn fumbled to try to hold it correctly. She looked to her left and tried to project the course of the arrow should Glenn accidentally release the thing.

"No," Haley was saying and she positioned herself behind Glenn and leaned forward, pressing herself against his back as she put her right hand over the hand Glenn held the arrow against the string with. "You have to pinch the nock behind the string, then pull the string back using the arrow while holding the nock. This holds the arrow in place."

She pinched Glenn's fingers against the nock, trapping the bowstring in it. "Now pull the arrow back." she instructed.

Glenn swallowed. He could feel Haley's chest pressing up against his back and he could smell her. She smelled like jasmine. He hadn't noticed it before when they had been talking on the library lawn.

That was because Haley hadn't had any perfume on when she met Glenn and Maggie. She had remedied that situation when the three of them had arrived at her apartment, running into her bedroom to spritz herself while Maggie used the bathroom and Glenn looked through her collection of CDs.

Maggie had noticed the perfume immediately when Haley had come out of her bedroom and she had grinned to herself. Was Woodbury so short on eligible young men that this young woman felt the need to pounce on Glenn only minutes after meeting him?

As Maggie watched Haley trying to give Glenn a lesson in basic archery, she had to admit to herself that Glenn was a good catch. He was smart and cute and compassionate and funny. She appreciated all those qualities in him, and at one time he was all she needed and she was completely content in her relationship with him.

Daryl had changed that for her. Cranky, foul-mouthed, sarcastic Daryl Dixon had fucked that contentment all up. She smiled as she heard Glenn laugh at something Haley had said, and she glanced over at him. Glenn was a sweetie, but Daryl... She made a list of adjectives in her mind; adjectives she would use to describe Daryl. She'd already thought of cranky, foul-mouthed and sarcastic and now she added more to the list: short-tempered, caustic, strong, brave, defensive, introspective, self-loathing, sad, smart, self-sufficient, skillful, insecure, audacious, handsome, honorable, daring and anti-social with a touch of crazy thrown in for good measure. She reached into her pocket and ran her fingers over the smooth, heart-shaped stone hidden there and wondered where Daryl was right now and what he was doing. Damn, she missed him so much.

An arrow flew through the living room and planted itself firmly into the cushioned back of a leather armchair.

"Oh, man, I'm so sorry!" Glenn exclaimed.

Haley leaped over the coffee table and approached the wounded armchair. "Don't worry about it," she said as she grasped the arrow's shaft and pulled it out of the chair. "That was pretty good for a beginner, although I thought we were just going to learn how to hold the arrow against the string. Releasing it indoors usually isn't a very good idea."

Glenn plopped himself down on the couch and sighed. "I really am sorry. Maybe I'd be better with a crossbow. Daryl makes loading one of those look so easy and the arrow stays in place without being held."

"Bolt," Maggie corrected, "A crossbow's projectiles are called bolts, not arrows."

Haley grinned at Maggie. "Are you into archery?" she asked.

"No," Maggie replied.

"But Merle's brother, Daryl, was." Glenn said. "He was a crack shot with his crossbow."

"Was?" Haley asked.

"Is." Maggie corrected. "He left to go look for Merle a couple days ago. He thought Merle might be at Fort Benning so he was heading there."

Haley bit her bottom lip. A group of the governor's men had gone down to Fort Benning early that morning to do a sweep of the area and to bring in more supplies. Ambushes were set up near the base as well as it was a place that many survivors sought out in their search for shelter, safety and answers. She had seen the group come back from their successful endeavor earlier that day while she was working the wall. Jeff was driving an old blue pickup truck with a motorcycle strapped in the back of it when it followed the Lincoln Navigators through the gate.

Jeff saw Haley looking at him and he smiled and gave her the 'thumbs up' gesture. She turned away in disgust. She had gone out before on these excursions as 'bait' until Jeff had excitedly told her about the supplies that had been collected from a house where two men she had helped capture had been staying. The two men were older, probably in their sixties, and they had been kind to her when they stopped to help her as she stood next to her 'disabled' car. She was shocked when she learned from Jeff that these two men had been killed once information about their base and supplies had been beaten out of them. After that she had signed up for wall watch duty and she hadn't gone out on supply runs again. Jeff's wife and son had been the bait today and apparently the fishing had been good.

There was a knock at the door and Haley excused herself to answer it. She opened the door and was surprised to see Jeff standing there. He smiled at her.

"How's it going?" he asked.

"Its going great." Haley replied. "What's up?"

Jeff leaned against the doorpost. "The governor would like to see you."

Haley raised her eyebrows. "Right now?"

Jeff nodded.

"Okay," Haley said. "I'll head over there in just a minute."

"You want me to walk you over?" Jeff asked.

Haley laughed. "Thanks, but I can find my way there," she said.

Jeff smiled. "Okay, suit yourself."

Haley closed the door and walked back into the living room. "Something's come up and I have to leave for a little while. I shouldn't be gone long. Do you guys want to just hang out here for a bit until I get back? You can listen to music or play video games and if you're hungry you can help yourselves to anything in the kitchen."

"Sure, we'll stay right here and wait for you to get back," Glenn said before Maggie had a chance to speak.

"Great! I'll be back soon." Haley said and she grabbed her handbag and walked out the door.

Once Haley was gone, Maggie turned to Glenn. "What the heck?"

Glenn looked perplexed. "What?" He asked, genuinely confused.

Maggie smiled. "Haley's quite the flirt, isn't she? Batting her lashes at you and running to her bedroom the second she gets here to put some perfume on. Are you enjoying yourself?"

Glenn blushed. "Maybe. Maybe I am. Why, you're not jealous, are you?"

Maggie shrugged. "Maybe I am. A little bit. I'm sorry."

Glenn grinned. "Don't be sorry. You just did my ego a world of good. I mean, I want us to be friends, but it's hard for me to let go of the deeper feelings I have for you. I'm not going to lie, it feels really good to have another girl acting like she's interested in me. I know I just met her, and that after today I'll probably never see her again, but I'm going to enjoy the attention while I can."

Maggie nodded. "I get it. I have no business being jealous and I want to be friends, too. She sighed. "Not that I'm anxious to change the subject or anything, but we need to discuss a few things before our lovely hostess returns."

"Like what?" Glenn asked.

"Namely, that you need to keep your mouth shut about certain things and we need to make sure we have our stories straight when it comes to the information we're volunteering."

Glenn suddenly looked worried. "What, did I say something I shouldn't have?"

"I'm not sure, but let's go over a few things. First of all, I told Merle there were six of us in our group, so you should say the same."

"Okay, so who are the six? Just so we can be on the same page if we're asked for specifics," Glenn said.

"You, me, Dad, Rick, Lori and Carl. I don't want this bunch knowing about Beth and the others. Merle already knows Rick is still around and thanks to you, he knows Rick is Lori's husband and Carl's dad."

Glenn's face turned red.

"Next, no mention of the lake house. Play it as if we're still at the farm."

"But Merle knows we're not."

"Yes, but no one else here does."

Glenn nodded. "Got it." he said.

"Don't mention Daryl anymore. I opened my big mouth about him and I shouldn't have. We don't know if Merle has said anything to anyone here about having a brother and he is the only one we should be talking to about Daryl. I should have known better. I'm sorry, but I just don't have a very good feeling about this place."

Glenn snorted. "Are you serious? Everyone is so happy and friendly here. How can you possibly think something could be wrong?"

"Because," Maggie said, "things aren't always as they seem. Remember Sergeant Wallace? When we all first met him we all thought he was a good guy and look at how that turned out."

Glenn shuddered remembering that day. Sergeant Wallace had seemed like a nice guy when he first appeared on the scene with Rick and the introductions were made, but less than ten minutes later Glenn was on the ground, helping Rick to pin the man down as Rick struggled to get the gun away from him.

"You're right. Things aren't always as they seem. I guess it really is better to be safe than sorry." he said. "What if Merle questions us about where we're staying now?" Glenn asked. "You know I'm a terrible liar."

"Then just let me do the talking." Maggie said as she stood up. She grabbed Glenn's arm and pulled him up so he stood next to her. She smiled and Glenn could see a mischievous glint in her eyes. He had always loved the way her eyes betrayed her when she was intent on doing some mischief. "Come on, Romeo, let's see what your new girlfriend has in her 'fridge to eat."

"Sure thing, old girlfriend." Glenn replied with a grin.

* * *

Andrea sat on the end of the dock with her bare feet in the water. She was wearing an old pair of jeans and she had rolled the bottoms up to her knees. She dragged her feet back and forth through the cool water as she held her fishing rod. The cicadas buzzed and a family of ducks that had taken up residence on the lake quacked loudly as they swam towards her on one of their many daily paddles around the lake. The ducks had quickly learned that if they announced their presence loudly as they approached anyone on the lake house's dock, they would more than likely be rewarded with something to eat.

Andrea reeled in her line quickly so a duck wouldn't accidentally get caught going after the baited hook and pulled it out of the water. She picked up a paper bag on the dock next to her and opened it, reaching down into it and withdrawing a hand full of crusts that Carl had meticulously cut from the edges of his toast that morning.

Andrea had tried to tell Carl as he performed his toast surgery that the crust was the best part of the bread, but he insisted that it was chewy and toast wasn't supposed to be chewy.

Maggie had found a fifty pound bag of wheat berries in one of the freezers in the garage the day before yesterday in the morning and had gone on a whole wheat bread and cracker baking rampage. It had been extremely hot out and Andrea thought Maggie was nuts. The heat in the kitchen was unbearable the one time she had walked through it and she didn't know how Maggie could stand to be in there. Almost everyone spent a good part of the day in the lake, lounging around on various floats and inner tubes in an effort to stay cool. Maggie spent time in the water while waiting for the bread dough to rise and was in the lake again as it baked in the oven and Andrea decided she wasn't as crazy as she'd initially thought.

Andrea tossed the bread crusts into the water and the greedy ducks gobbled them up as quickly as they could. They hung around for about ten minutes after devouring every little crumb they'd been given and once they realized that no more goodies were forthcoming, they paddled away, quacking amongst themselves.

Andrea threw her line back out into the water and adjusted the straw hat on her head. She was alone on the dock and she was glad because she didn't really feel like talking to anyone. She sighed as thoughts she would rather not think invaded her mind.

Daryl had been furious with her before he left a couple of days ago and had snuck off early in the morning without so much as a goodbye.

"Ha!" she said to herself. Did she really think he'd have anything at all to say to her after she'd pulled her gun on him and demanded that he show everyone his injured hand? She winced remembering how absolutely furious he had looked when he had turned to face her And then he had actually dared her to shoot him. Her mind suddenly took her back to the Greene farm and a conversation in Daryl's tent. He had forgiven her quickly for shooting him because she was watching out for the group. Isn't that what she had been doing this time, too? Wasn't she watching out for the group when she'd insisted that he show them his injured hand beneath the bandages? Couldn't he see that and forgive her this time?

She sighed. What difference did it make now? Daryl was gone and none of them were ever going to see him again. She just wished she could have had a chance to apologize to him before he'd left. She watched a cloud drifting lazily across the sky and more questions filled her head. Where was Daryl now? Did he go to Fort Benning in search of Merle or did he head straight for Maine? Was he okay? He hadn't been in the best of shape when he left. She took off her hat and wiped her brow before pulling the hat back down on her head.

'Stop thinking about him, he's not worth feeling guilty over,' she told herself. Besides, she really didn't need to apologize. he had evened the score, in her eyes anyway. He'd left her a message when he left. A big old Daryl Dixon personal 'fuck you', just for her. The morning Daryl left, Andrea found her straw hat hanging on the towel hook on the back of the bathroom door direct across the hall from her bedroom. She'd gone into the bathroom that morning and closed the door behind her, just like he knew she would and she had stared at the hat hanging from the hook. She'd bitten her bottom lip as tears welled up in her eyes. Sticking out around the crown of her hat and jammed into place between woven pieces of straw were twelve turkey feathers.

**Holy crap, last night's TWD episode broke my heart! No, I won't spoil it for those of you who haven't seen it yet, but...holy crap!**


	10. Chapter 10

They were a quarter of a mile from the town when Merle glanced into the back seat as they approached the entrance gate to Woodbury. He had tossed his jacket, a sweatshirt, two rolls of toilet paper and a few old magazines (including four issues of 'Big Bodacious Boobs', two issues of 'Juggs' and two issues of 'Hustler') on top of the sheet covering Daryl so it would look like he had a pile of clothing or supplies under the sheet and not a person. "You awake back there?" he asked.

"No." Daryl's muffled voice replied.

"Good, 'cause if you're sleeping you'll keep your mouth shut and you won't move while I'm checking in at the gate." Merle continued, "Course, you ain't always quiet when you're sleepin'. I've heard you honk off some damned loud farts while you were under Queen Mab's spell."

Daryl groaned. On some subjects Merle was like an ornery dog with a bone. He just wouldn't let go of it. This was one of those subjects and Daryl was sure that Merle would continue to bring it up on occasion for as long as they both lived.

"That night at the quarry after you ate them three cans of baked beans I thought we were under attack or someone was lightin' firecrackers." Merle grinned at the memory. "You best not be doin' that when we get up to the gate."

"Wasn't so bad as you say." Daryl grumbled from beneath the sheet.

The gate was already opening to admit his truck as Merle drove up to it. Ken was talking to a young woman who was new to the group and he glanced up as Merle drove by and then went back to his conversation.

* * *

Merle drove straight to his house and hit the button on the remote garage door opener when he reached the bottom of the driveway. He drove into the two car garage attached to his little white house and hit the button again to close the big overhead door. He looked over his shoulder into the back seat and said, "We're here. Now you just sit tight for a second, okay? I'll be right back."

Daryl didn't answer and Merle took that as an "okay".

Merle entered the house through the door that opened from the garage into the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and listened. He could hear the sound of the clock ticking on the kitchen wall and that was all. "Anyone here?" he called out into the silence. No one answered him. Glenn and the girl must still be walking around town and checking things out. Perfect.

Merle stepped back into the garage and opened the truck's right rear cab door. He reached in and pulled the magazines, sweat shirt, toilet paper and his jacket off Daryl and then whipped the sheet off him. "Hey, you awake?"

Daryl didn't answer so Merle reached down and grabbed his right ankle with his hand.

Daryl's body jerked and he yelped in a combination of pain and surprise. For a second he thought he was back in the ravine and a walker was chewing on his boot again. "Fuck," he gasped as he slowly sat up and swung his legs off the seat. "Asshole hit me there with a hammer. Don't be touchin' it. Fuckin' hurts."

"Morey? Morey took a fuckin' _hammer_ to you?" Merle's body stiffened and he clenched his fist. He felt his face getting hot as he was hit with a wave of anger so intense and overwhelming that he wouldn't have been surprised if his head exploded. "I'm gonna _kill_ that miserable bastard!" Merle roared.

"Would you cut out the fuckin' yelling before you make my damned ears bleed? It wan't him," Daryl said. "This guy was taller, said somethin' about bein' the mayor or some high monkey-monk around here." He slid towards the open door and Merle moved out of his way.

Merle remembered what the governor had told him about being unable to get the prisoner to speak. "Did he hit you anywhere else with it?" Merle asked as he started to get his anger under control.

"Naw," Daryl said as he slid off the seat and stood leaning against the truck, bearing his weight on his left leg. "He threatened to break my kneecaps, but I guess he figured he'd leave that to the 'torture master' he said was comin' in to talk to me. Guess that'd be you." He cautiously placed his right foot on the ground and shifted some weight on to it. "Shit," he hissed.

Merle moved next to Daryl and reached out his left hand to help his brother. Daryl ducked away from Merle instinctively and Merle scowled. Daryl had never liked being touched by anyone and only seemed to tolerate it when Merle touched him. Merle's scowl turned into a frown. He'd forgotten how much it bothered him to see Daryl flinch and move away from his touch. "Come on, let me help you." Merle said.

"Don't need no help," Daryl growled as he stumbled backward and leaned against Merle's truck again.

"Stop bein' a stubborn jackass and let me help you to get inside afore you fall flat on your stupid boney ass," Merle took another step toward Daryl and reached out and wrapped his left arm around his brother's waist. He smiled to himself when Daryl leaned into him and he helped his brother hobble to the door. "Cripes, you stink." Merle teased.

"Stop sayin' that."

Daryl looked around as they entered the kitchen from the garage. He was surprised to find that the kitchen was spotless. The counters and the floors were clean and the coffee pot, blender and toaster were covered with quilted floral appliance covers and were tucked back against the wall behind the counter. Maybe he was hallucinating. His head ache had intensified and now he started hearing a ringing in his ears. He was suddenly dizzier than he had been all day. He felt Merle tighten his grip on him as he swayed on his feet.

"We gotta sit you down." Merle said.

"I'm fine," Daryl grumbled as he tried to pull away from Merle. His right leg buckled beneath him, but Merle had an iron grip on him and he pulled Daryl back against his chest before he could fall.

Merle was about to light into Daryl about being a dumb ass for trying to stand on his own when He saw Daryl look up at him with something that looked a bit like a smirk on his face. "This ain't…this ain't your house, is it?" Daryl asked.

Merle noticed that Daryl's eyes had locked on to his face for just for a few seconds before his eyes started wandering again.

"Of course it's mine. What, you don't think I'd keep my house lookin' nice and presentable?"

Merle had always been a slob, and Daryl dropped his head again and mumbled, "No. No, I don't."

Merle pulled Daryl towards the bathroom. "Well, little brother, that just hurts ol' Merle's feelings. Now come on, Pepi Le Pew, let's get you washed up. You ain't crawlin' into the clean bed in the guest room all filthy and smelly."

Daryl didn't feel up to arguing and he tightened his grip on Merle. As they entered the bathroom he was hit with a wave of dizziness and everything started to fade to black. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the toilet seat and opening his eyes. Merle was crouched down in front of him and his worried face was only inches from Daryl's. "I'm okay," he said before Merle could say anything.

Merle stayed crouched in front of him. "No. No you ain't. Don't you be fibbin' to me, boy. You've had a hell of a day and i know you feel like shit. We'll get the dirt and the blood and the stink offa you and then I'll patch you up and you can get some rest. Okay?"

Daryl nodded.

Merle sighed. "An' I'm sorry, but there's somethin' I gotta do first. Now close your eyes and hold your head still."

Daryl knew what Merle was going to do and he closed his eyes and waited for him to do it. Damn, he hated this. He felt Merle's rough fingers as they slid down the sides of his nose, then a loud 'snap' broke the silence as Merle re-aligned Daryl's broken nose.

"Thanks... I guess." Daryl mumbled.

"Anytime." Merle replied. He reached down and he started to untie Daryl's boots with his one hand and Daryl snorted.

"Don't do that. I can…"

"Look, you just sit tight. I ain't doin' this for you, I'm doin' it for me. I don't want you fallin' on you're fuckin' head and bleedin' all over my clean bathroom floor."

Daryl leaned back until his back bumped up against the cool porcelain of the toilet tank.

"You want to be useful?" Merle asked as he untied the other boot. "Unbutton your shirt. I could do it, but I'm slow as fuck with damned buttons."

Daryl slowly slid his winged leather vest off his shoulders and then moved his hands to the buttons on his shirt. He had noticed that Merle was wearing a wife-beater undershirt with an unbuttoned dark blue shirt over it. He had never seen Merle wear a shirt unbuttoned like that but now it made perfect sense.

Merle pulled Daryl's right boot off and then leaned back and sat on his ass with a 'thunk'. "Whooo hoo! What a stink!" he exclaimed as he waved his left hand in front of his nose. "I bet if I looked close enough, I could see little stink waves."

"Told you I could take 'em off." Daryl said defensively..

"Well, shit, son, if I'd known your feet smelled that bad I woulda let you." Merle sat up and leaned forward. He pulled Daryl's left boot off and gleefully pretended to gag.

"Jackass." Daryl mumbled.

Merle smiled as he stood up and walked over to the bathtub. He really was being a jackass, but he was just having fun. It was so nice to have Daryl there with him after they'd been separated for so long. Merle had given up hope that they'd ever see each other again.

He turned on the faucet in the tub and adjusted the water temperature, then he reached up and unhooked the hand held shower head and let it hang down into the tub as he pulled up the tab that routed the water to the shower-head. He turned to see Daryl pulling his sleeveless undershirt off over his head and he saw the bloody stitched wound to the left of Daryl's navel. Daryl really was a mess, and Merle decided that he had already been a mess before any Woodbury thugs had gotten their hands or feet on him. The stitches in his forehead and on his left forearm certainly weren't from today and his face,neck and torso were covered with bruises in all sorts of colors indicating their differences in ages and the force used to create them. Some were a fading yellowish brown, some were purple, some blue black, some red. Some were small, some were large and they were everywhere. Then as Daryl fumbled with his belt buckle, Merle noticed something else.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, "You're missing a finger!"

"Am I?" Daryl asked and he slowly brought his shaky right hand up in front of his face. "Well, would ya look at that."

Merle smirked. " Stop bein' a smartass. What happened?"

Daryl sighed. "Long story." he said and started to stand.

Merle hurried over to help him. "I'll ask you about it when you're feelin' better. Now hold on to me and I'll help you get your pants off and we'll get you into the tub."

"Screw that." Daryl muttered."I ain't gettin' naked in front a you."

"Oh for Christ's sake, what's with this modesty crap?" Merle asked. "I'm your damned brother, not some sissy fag cruising the rest area bathrooms lookin' for some pretty little ass to plow."

Daryl didn't answer back and Merle rolled his eyes. He walked over to a wicker basket sitting on a small shelf by the vanity and pulled a clean and folded hand towel out of it. He walked back to where Daryl sat and held out the towel to him. "Here. I'll help you get your damned filthy pants off and you can hide your pussy with this, Darleena."

When Daryl took the towel from Merle without saying a word Merle noticed that Daryl's hand was shaking. Daryl only shook like that when he was in a lot of pain. He resolved to try to be a bit kinder to his younger brother. "Shit, that wasn't nice. I'm sorry." Merle said as he took a mini guilt trip. "Now are you gonna let me help you get out of those pants or not?" he asked calmly.

Daryl took a deep breath and gave Merle a nod.

Merle helped Daryl step out of the pair of boxers and the pants pooled around Daryl's feet and held his arm as he led him to the bathtub.

"I'm gonna help you sit down now." Merle said calmly. "Okay, see? There we go, now you got that towel where you want it?" The Dr. Jekyll in Merle suddenly appeared and took over for few seconds and Calm Understanding Merle disappeared. "You know, this is ridiculous! I've seen you naked a million times! Hell, I used to change your damned diapers!" So much for being kinder to his brother.

Daryl sighed. His head ache hadn't let up and he didn't feel up to arguing with Merle. Would it really do any good to tell Merle that he was misinterpreting his modesty and that he was embarrassed for anyone to see what a mess his body was? He felt ike he had stitches and cuts and scars and bruises everywhere. Merle would take one look at his chewed up body and declare him unable to take care of himself. He would have disappointed Merle yet again. The marks on his body were evidence that he was weak and pathetic. A pussy.

"I'm sorry." Merle said and he sat down on the edge of the bathtub. Shit, he was really fucking up this 'trying to be kinder' thing. "Here, let me wash your back and then I'll leave you be. Okay?"

Daryl nodded and leaned forward slightly as the warm water cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. He sucked in a breath as the water hit the fresh wounds on the back of his neck.

Merle released the shower head and it bumped against the walls of the bathtub as it dangled from the shower fixture. He gripped a bar of soap inside a washcloth and began washing Daryl's scarred back.

Daryl dropped his head and Merle winced when he saw the cluster of fresh cigarette burns on the back of Daryl's neck. Merle grabbed the shower head again and held it above Daryl's back, letting the warm water rinse the soap off his brother's skin. Merle watched as the soapy water running off Daryl raced to the drain and then swirled around and around before disappearing.

Merle noticed the patch of shaved hair and the newly formed scar on Daryl's head. He moved his eyes over the familiar jagged trails of raised scar tissue marking Daryl's back and he noticed the new roundish scar on the left side of Daryl's lower back that appeared to be from an exit wound. Merle surmised that sometime during the months they were separated, Daryl had been shot. He decided he'd ask his younger brother about that later, too.

Merle stepped out of the bathroom and went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee so Daryl could have some privacy while he finished washing up. He waited until he had finished a cup before he went down the hall to the bathroom. Merle knocked on the door and then stepped into the room without bothering to wait for a response.

Daryl took a deep breath. "Why bother to knock if you're gonna burst right in before I say anythin'?"

"To give you fair warning that I'm gonna be burstin' right in." Merle answered.

"I'm done." Daryl said. "Am I clean enough now to be allowed to stay?"

"Yup. You smell like fancy schmancy hotel soap." Merle replied. "Now let's go find you a nice dress so you can go to the prince's high society ball tonight."

"Stop it." Daryl complained as he grabbed the edges of the tub. He accidentally pushed the cauterized base of his missing pinky against the edge of the tub and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making any pussy whimpery noises in front of Merle.

Merle grabbed Daryl's upper arm and helped him stand. He grabbed a long hooded terry-cloth bathrobe hanging on a towel rack and draped it over Daryl's shoulders. Daryl wrapped it around him and his fingers trembled as he tied it at the waist. Daryl turned toward Merle and grasped Merle by the shoulder as he stepped out of the bathtub on to his left leg.

Merle could feel Daryl trembling as Daryl's hand gripped his shoulder. "You okay?" Merle asked.

"I'll be fine after I lie down for a bit." Daryl said. He held on to Merle's shoulder as Merle led him to the guest bedroom. The room was painted a calming robin's egg blue and the full-sized bed with its green and blue bed linens looked very inviting.

Merle let go of Daryl and pulled the sheet and the comforter down for him. "You climb on in there and I'm gonna bring you somethin' to make you feel better," he said.

Merle pulled a stack of towels out of the linen closet in the bathroom and reached into the back corner. He found what he was looking for and withdrew the paper bag from the cupboard and walked over to the sink. He dumped the bag's contents on the vanity next to the sink and started checking the labels on the brown pill bottles now scattered across the vanity's granite top. He found a bottle labeled 'Fentanyl' and put it in his pocket. He then a picked up the other bottles one by one and dropped them into the open paper bag.

Daryl took two of the pills Merle offered him without any questions. Merle had come back into the room bearing a glass of water in his only hand and had placed it on the nightstand next to the bed before fishing into his pocket for the bottle of pills. He handed the bottle to Daryl and instructed him to take two of them.

Merle took a closer look at Daryl's abdominal wound and the stitches in his forehead and his left lower arm.

Daryl's headache began to fade and he could feel his eyelids getting heavier as Merle examined him and questioned him about his injuries. Merle's voice got further and further away and soon Daryl couldn't hear it at all.

* * *

Maggie walked quickly up the walkway in front of Merle's house to the front door. She had some questions for Daryl's big brother.

Haley had returned to her apartment after about half an hour. She told Glenn and Maggie that she had been summoned by the governor because he had just obtained a crossbow and he wanted her to look it over and to set up an appointment for Haley to teach him how to use it.

Glenn and Maggie were standing next to each other behind the kitchen counter (they had just each poured themselves a glass of lemonade) as Haley relayed her story to them. Maggie had moved her foot over and stepped on Glenn's toe hard enough so that he wouldn't mistake her action for an accident, hoping he'd get the hint and not open his mouth. Haley had gone on to explain to them that the crossbow was a Horton Scout and whomever it had belonged to had taken very good care of it. Shooting a crossbow was quite a bit different than shooting a recurve or a compound bow, she told them, but she was excited to be able to help the governor learn to use his new weapon.

Maggie had appeared calm and collected on the outside while her mind was panicking and asking questions one after the other. A Horton Scout? Daryl's crossbow was a Horton Scout. The weapon had been well taken care of? Daryl took better care of his crossbow than Lori did of Carl, Maggie thought. Was it Daryl's crossbow? No, it couldn't be. Daryl didn't own the only Horton Scout in Georgia, right? It had to belong to someone else. It _had to._

Haley then suggested that they stay inside where it was cool and play a video game or two.

Maggie had raised her eyes at this suggestion. Were there video games that three people could play together? She had no idea but she highly doubted it. "If y'all don't mind, I'm going to go back to Merle's house and see if he's gotten back." She smiled at Glenn and Haley. "We'll have to be leaving before too long. If you want, I can stop back over to get Glenn when its time for us to go."

Haley's face lit up and she smiled. "That's a great idea!" she exclaimed, then she looked at Glenn and added, "of course, that is if you want to stay for a while."

Glenn smiled at Maggie and winked at her. "Fine by me." he answered. "but Mags, do you think its safe to be around Merle by yourself?"

Haley laughed. "Merle's just a big pussy cat. She'll be plenty safe with him."

"Of course I will," Maggie said as she headed toward the door. "I'll be back later. Have fun you guys." she called over her shoulder as she left in a hurry.

Now Maggie swung the screen door open and turned the doorknob to let herself into Merle's house. It was locked and she rolled her eyes. Merle wasn't home yet. She walked around to the garage and opened the side door and stepped into the cool, dark cement floored home of Merle's truck. She went to the door to the kitchen and entered the room and looked around. It was quiet and empty. She peeked into the living room, no Merle there. She walked down the hall. The bathroom door was open and there was water on the floor. There were two doors on the right side of the hallway, the first one was Merle's room and the second one was a guest bedroom. The guest bedroom's door was closed and Maggie thought she heard someone moving around in the room. She approached the room and stood in front of it for a few seconds before she reached out, grasped the doorknob and turned it.

**I'm sorry I was so pokey about posting. My life has been a roller-coaster ride lately. An out-of-control, careening-down-the-track-at-220-miles-per-hour and I'm-screaming-my-head-off roller-coaster ride.**

**Is everyone ready for TWD's season finale? I'm guessing Hershel, the Gov, Milton and Martinez will be among the dead along with a bunch of Woodbury residents. I'm also worried for Glenn and Maggie. It would be just like AMC to kill one of them off now that they're engaged. Just my guesses, I have no spoiler info nor do I want any! AMC = Dirty Stinkers**


	11. Chapter 11

**Some of you are going to hate me for this disappointing chapter. All I can say is that I'll make it up to you later. I promise!**

Maggie felt the door pull away from her grip and suddenly the door opened and Merle's stocky frame was filling the doorway. She released the doorknob and stepped back from the door and Merle stepped out into the hallway. He had a small duffel bag over his shoulder and he pulled the door closed behind him.

"You lookin' for somethin'?" he asked as he leaned back against the door.

"Yes. I was looking for you." Maggie replied.

Merle raised his eyebrows at Maggie and then turned and strode down the hallway towards the living room. "Congratulations. You found me." he said over his shoulder.

Maggie jogged to catch up to him. "I need to talk to you about a few things."

"Is that so?" Merle said gruffly. He looked around the living room. "Where's the Chinese kid at?"

"He's Korean and he's with this girl we met, Haley. Now I'd like to know..."

"Haley Peterson? She's a bossy one. He's probably in over his head. You best go get him," Merle said as he turned to face her. "We got to get headin' out and get you two back to where I found you."

"But I want to ask you about..."

Merle raised his hand in front of her like it was a stop sign. "Get him and I'll answer your questions while I'm drivin' y'all back to your farm."

Maggie sighed. "Look, I just want to know if.."

"Then go get him." Merle interrupted. "Then we'll talk, but not until we're outta here and on the road. Got it?"

Maggie was getting frustrated with the way Merle kept cutting her off. "Can I just ask you one question?"

"Darlin', you just did, so your one answer for now is 'yes'," Merle said sarcastically. "Now go and get your boyfriend so we can get moving and then you can have your little inquisition."

Maggie glared at Merle and then threw up her hands. "Fine. I'll go get Glenn, and he's not my boyfriend! When I get back, I'm going to expect some answers!"

"Yeah, yeah yeah. Expect all you want. When we're on the road we can talk." Merle nodded and moved towards the front door. He opened it and motioned towards it with his head. "Go on then, time's a wastin'."

Maggie continued to glare at Merle as she approached the door and she slammed it behind her as she left the house.

* * *

Merle watched her walk down the walkway for a second before he turned and jogged up the hall to the guest bedroom. He quietly opened the door and stepped inside, half expecting Daryl to sit up and ask him what the hell was going on. He moved across the room quietly until he stood next to the bed. As he reached down to pull the sheet up over the demon that danced across Daryl's bare right shoulder blade he could see that his brother was still sound asleep. Merle figured that the pills he'd given Daryl would make him sleep through just about anything for at least the next four or five hours and that was a good thing.

Merle sighed and sat down on the bed next to Daryl and watched his brother as he slept. Daryl's eyes had both developed bruises around them and his eyelids were swollen shut. Other new bruises were blooming on his cheeks and along his jawline and Merle noticed that Daryl's upper and lower lips were both split open. He wondered if Daryl had lost any teeth in the scuffle with the governor's men. Merle decided that he'd be able to give Daryl his undivided attention after he'd gotten the 'kids' back to the farm and he'd put some ice on Daryl's jaw and his eyes. Daryl was breathing through his mouth instead of through his broken nose and his breathing made a raspy noise.

Merle closed his eyes. It was like déjà vu. How many times in the wee hours of a Saturday morning had he sat on the edge of a small twin bed and looked down at his battered little brother as he slept, cheeks still damp with tears after enduring one of pa's drunken beatings? That had been so many years ago and yet, here they were again; only this time there were no tears on Daryl's face and it hadn't been pa who had beat the hell out of him. Merle knew that Daryl's wounds would heal and he'd be okay again, just like they always did and just like he always was. Eventually.

Merle wondered about this Maggie chick. She'd been so close to discovering Daryl in that room and Merle was damned glad that he had opened the door and stepped out into the hallway when he did. What would happen if Maggie found out that Daryl was in Woodbury? Would she insist on staying with him or try to drag him back with her to wherever the hell she'd come from? Merle decided that he'd just have to make sure that she didn't find out where Daryl was.

Merle smirked. "How the hell did you end up gettin' a pretty lil' spitfire like her to fall for your stupid ass?" he said to Daryl. "Must be a helluva story behind it." He patted Daryl on the shoulder, stood up and left the room again, closing the door behind him. "Fuckin' mess," he mumbled to himself as he slid a key out of his pocket with his left hand and locked the door.

In the kitchen, he stopped and took a bottle of Coors out of the refrigerator. Merle walked into the living room and sat down in the big recliner. He held the beer bottle tightly between his knees and unscrewed the cap with his left hand. He'd been kicking a plan around in his head and now he tried to work out the kinks in it. He glanced around his living room and exhaled heavily. It was going to be hard to leave this place, this home he had made for himself, but Daryl would not be safe in Woodbury and if he wanted to be with Daryl, he was going to have to leave his life in Woodbury behind him.

Glenn and Maggie had said that Daryl had left the group to look for him, but now Merle found that he needed more information from them. What was Daryl planning to do if he did find him? Was he going to drag Merle back to wherever it was that the group was holed up? If Daryl had left the group with as many supplies as he had been caught with, the group must be sitting pretty on a nice sized stash of food, fuel and weapons. The governor would be extremely pleased with Merle if he was to discover this cache of supplies and Woodbury could certainly use them.

Merle smirked. So what? Why the hell should he care if the governor was pleased with him or do anything for the sick fuck? The bastard had used the back of his baby brother's neck as an ashtray! If anything, Merle owed it to the governor to kick his pompous ass up and down the street a few times.

Merle started planning the steps for his and Daryl's escape from Woodbury.

They would get away in his truck and yes, Daryl would be pissed off about leaving his piece of shit truck behind, but Merle's was much newer and had a bigger pickup bed and the quad cab was bigger, too. Daryl's Harley would have to be left behind as well. Merle brought the bottle of beer to his lips and tilted the end up, finishing it. He belched loudly and smirked. Where the hell was his Bonneville? Had Daryl had an accident and smashed it up somewhere? It couldn't have broken down. That thing was a 1976 Triumph Bonneville and it would run forever with proper maintenance. So where the hell was it? Merle decided that he would have to have that discussion with his little brother at a later date.

Merle reached into his jean's pocket and pulled out the inventory list that Jackson had given him back at the warehouse. Now knowing that Daryl had chosen and packed the items on the list made him look at it with renewed interest. Daryl had picked some damned nice weaponry to bring along and Merle felt a flush of pride at Daryl's firearms discernment. He actually snorted when he re-read the '2 boxes - assorted grenades' entry on the list. If one of the grenades had lost a pin and exploded, there would have been a chain reaction. With all the guns and ammo and gasoline packed into the truck, if that had happened all that would have been left of Daryl and his truck would be some dust in a huge, deep crater in the ground. "Crazy bastard," Merle muttered to himself. The' 6 down pillows' entry made him raise an eyebrow, along with the entry for '2 Ruger .45 Blackhawks/double holster'. "Wyatt fuckin' Earp." Merle mumbled.

* * *

Maggie came back with Glenn and Merle told them each to go to the bathroom before they left to go back to the farm because he wasn't stopping for any stupid bullshit like that. He tossed Daryl's clothes into the washing machine and threw some dirty towels on top of them while Glenn and Maggie mixed up a thermos of iced tea to bring in the truck. '

"Okay," Merle called out as he came down the hall, "Let's get goin'! I'm drivin' this time."

"Shotgun!" Maggie yelled.

"Glenn raised his eyebrows. Shotgun? Did Maggie really want to ride in the front with Merle?

"Good, I get the whole backseat to myself!" Glenn gloated.

"You're both sitting in the back! Now move!" Merle snapped.

They all entered the garage and Merle locked the kitchen door.

"You afraid someone might rob you?" Maggie asked.

Merle smirked. "I can drop-kick everyone in this town farther than I trust them," he told her.

Maggie got into the front passenger seat, much to Merle's chagrin, and she refused to sit anywhere else. Glenn tried to shame her into sitting in the back with him by asking her if she didn't want to sit with him because he had B.O. or cooties. They hadn't even gotten out of town and already their bickering was driving Merle nuts.

"Just shut up for now, okay?" he asked. He stopped at the gate and told Ken that he was returning the visitors to their own place and the gates were opened for him. Merle drove through the gates and accelerated. He wanted to get Glenn and Maggie away from Woodbury as quickly as he could.

Maggie pulled one of her legs up onto the seat and folded it underneath her. "Okay, Merle," she said, "you've put me off long enough and I have some things I need to ask you and I need some answers."

Merle had only driven about two hundred feet from the gate, swerving around two burned out cars that had yet to be moved out of the roadway. "Okay, ask away." He was waiting for Maggie to speak when he heard something that made him bite his lower lip. Shit. What moron had thought that was a good idea? He hoped against hope that Maggie hadn't heard it and that what was making the noise was going in the same direction he was and was not headed towards them. He quickly brought up his stump and pushed the button on the vehicle's stereo and George Thorogood loudly started singing about 'one bourbon, one scotch and one beer'. Merle felt like he could use one of each of those himself right about then.

Maggie reached over to turn the stereo down a bit. "Are you trying to drown me out when I'm talking to you? Because if you are, it won't work. Now Haley said that the governor…" Maggie's words died on her lips and her eyes widened.

Shit. She'd heard it. "Haley said the governor said what?" Merle asked her, loudly.

"Shhh…," Maggie hissed and she pushed the button to turn off the stereo. With George Thorogood effectively silenced, it was easy to hear the approaching motorcycle. Maggie cocked her head. "That's Daryl's bike." Maggie said excitedly.

Merle psshawed her. "Nah. This sounds like a Harley," he said.

"Daryl rides a Harley now." Glenn volunteered.

Merle snorted. "Well it ain't Daryl's bike that we're hearin'." He stepped on the gas just as the motorcycle came around the bend up ahead in the road.

"It's Daryl!" yelled Glenn as he saw the black Harley approach.

Maggie laughed and clapped her hands. "I'd know the sound of his bike anywhere," she said. The smile slowly left her face as the approaching motorcycle slowed and she got a good look at the rider..

Merle tried to speed up a bit more, hoping to hell that whoever it was on the motorcycle wouldn't try to get him to stop and chat. The rider held up his hand for Merle to stop and Merle sighed. It was Martinez, Rodriguez's brother in law. His sister had been married to Rodriguez and he had married Rodriguez's sister. They had both lost their wives and children in the same biter attack before they'd come to Woodbury and they were both just a step below Merle in the governor's posse hierarchy.

Merle slowed the truck and snarled, "You two will just keep your damned mouths shut now if you know what's good for you. This guy ain't anyone to fuck with." He stopped and lowered the window. "Hey, Martinez, what's up?"

"Just checking out my new wheels." Martinez said with a shit eating grin.

"Nice. I'm more of a Triumph guy myself," Merle said loudly so Martinez could hear him over the Harley's pipes.

Maggie sat up and leaned toward Merle as she looked the Harley over. "That isn't your motorcycle!" she shouted. "Where did you get that!? That's Daryl's! Where is he?"

"Shut up!" Merle yelled as he turned to her. "Can't you see I'm talking to a buddy of mine here?" He glared at her and mouthed "no' and then turned back to Martinez who was curiously trying to peer around Merle at the young woman with the loud mouth. What had she just said?

"I'll stop by and check it out later." Merle said quickly. "Gotta take care of a few things here right now."

Martinez revved the Fat Boy's engine and grinned again. "Sounds good, Dixon. Stop by later and I'll let you look her over."

Maggie and Glenn watched as the Harley roared off in towards Woodbury, then they both looked at Merle. Glenn looked confused and Maggie just looked angry.

"Merle, what the hell is going on?" Maggie asked. "That was Daryl's bike."

Merle accelerated. He couldn't wait to be rid of these two. As soon as he got to the Greene farm he would let them out of the truck, wave 'sayonara' and they could all be on their separate, merry ways. "No, it wasn't," Merle insisted. "It probably just looked like it. You seen one Harley, you've seen them all."

"Daryl wouldn't like to hear you say that." Glenn volunteered from the back seat.

"Yeah, well Daryl ain't' here, is he?" Merle snapped.

Maggie glared at Merle. "That was Daryl's bike, Merle." She swallowed and then continued. "Haley, the girl we hung out with today, had to leave us for a little while because she was called into the governor's office to look over a crossbow that he had just gotten," she told him. "Not just any crossbow, either. A Horton Scout. She told us whoever it belonged to had kept it immaculate. Do you know anyone who has a Horton Scout that they keep immaculate, Merle? Because I do."

Merle knew who Haley was and he wouldn't be able to discredit her. She knew her archery. He glanced over at Maggie and then looked back at the road. It didn't help that her eyes were shining and she looked to be on the verge of tears.

"What's going on Merle? Where is Daryl?"

Glenn leaned forward and looked at Merle, awaiting his answer along with Maggie.

Merle shook his head. "We ain't gonna discuss this. We're not gonna talk about my baby brother. I'm taking you back to where I found you and you're going to forget about Woodbury and forget that you ever saw me. It's better that way," he told them.

Maggie sucked in a breath and closed her eyes for a second, trying her best to hold back tears that threatened to fall. "Where is Daryl?" she asked again.

Merle tore his eyes from the road and glared at her for a second before returning his attention to the roadway ahead. "What the fuck is it to you?" he shouted. "He left y'all, didn't he?! Just up and left! And for good reason, I'm sure! He was a fuckin' mess! Cuts and bruises and stitches all over him and new scars. What the fuck is it to you!? He wasn't nothin' to you, just redneck trash."

Maggie closed her eyes tightly and bit her lower lip. It didn't help and the tears started to slip down her cheeks.

Glenn reached forward and put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.

Maggie sucked in a breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "You're wrong. He means the world to me." She bit her bottom lip and tried to keep her composure. "Where is he?" she asked.

Merle was silent.

"Was. You kept saying 'was' when you referred to him." She sniffed and reached up to wipe her eyes again.

Glenn rubbed Maggie's shoulder as he leaned over the seat back. "Maggie, don't," he said.

"Where is he?" Maggie asked again. "I need to know."

"Why?" Merle snapped. "Why would you _need _to know? He left y'all, he fuckin' _left_! That tells me that he didn't want you to know _nothin'_! Give me one good reason to tell you anything 'bout my brother!"

Maggie took a deep breath. "Because I love him." she said.

Merle snorted. "Like hell you do. Daryl don't let anyone get close enough to him for them to feel like that about him. There's only been one woman for my little brother. Only one he ever let get close to him."

"Lily." Maggie said.

Merle looked at her with surprise.

"I know all about Lily." Maggie said. "I know she died a long time ago. I know about Bud and the scar across Daryl's chest. I know about your part in all that and that you saved his life."

Glenn removed his hand from Maggie's shoulder and leaned back in the back seat. Things were starting to get awkward for him. Of course, Merle hadn't been around so he had no idea that he and Maggie used to be together before Maggie got all gaga over Daryl.

Merle still wouldn't answer her.

Maggie reached over and gently grasped Merle's right upper arm. He glanced at her and her big, green-gray doe eyes seemed to plead with him for an answer. "_Please_," she asked.

Merle scowled. "Okay, okay! You win. You wanna know so fuckin' bad? Fine." he said angrily. "A raiding party went out early this morning and they came back with him and his truck."

Maggie closed her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. "Where is he now?"

"Truck was full of guns, ammo, food, gas." Merle continued. "They tried to get him to tell them where he'd gotten it all, where it had come from. He wouldn't tell 'em a damned thing. They had no idea he was my brother, I had no idea he was even in Woodbury until the governor called me in this afternoon and said he wanted me to go in to try to get some information out of some guy that was caught down near Fort Benning. I didn't know it was Daryl until I was in the room with him and got a look at his face."

"So why didn't you let him go when you realized it was him?" Maggie asked.

"It was too late when I got there!" Merle yelled. "He wouldn't talk so they killed him! I sure as hell wasn't going to tell them he was my brother. They would have been all over me askin' about all the shit in his truck and thinkin' I was scheming with him against the governor and the town! No thank you."

"I don't believe you." Maggie said. "You're lying."

Merle sighed. "Keep tellin' yourself that, darlin', if it helps you. While you're doin' that, unzip that duffel bag on the floor by your feet, would you?"

Maggie ignored Merle and sat looking out the window with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Okay, then don't." Merle said.

They rode in silence the rest of the way to the farm. Merle drove up the gravel driveway and stopped his truck next to the barn. Maggie jumped out of the truck and slammed the door without saying a word.

* * *

Glenn fumbled with the door handle and had started to open the door when Merle spoke to him. "She'll be okay, won't she?" he asked.

Glenn swallowed, Merle sounded like he was actually concerned. "Maggie's tough, she'll get through this."

"Maybe you can, you know, help her." Merle said. "Be there for her."

"I plan on it." Glenn said. "but why do you care? I mean ..I know I…um.." Glenn was afraid he'd gone and poked the bear.

He was surprised when Merle said, "I care because she cared. Ain't no one cared for Daryl like that but Lily. It's hard to love a Dixon. Hell, its damned near next to impossible."

Merle's eyes met Glenn's and Glenn could see Daryl's clear blue eyes looking back at him from Merle's rough, weatherworn face. "Was he happy? Were they?"

Glenn slowly nodded. "They were best friends."

Merle smiled a small smile and said, "That's good. Really good. I'm glad."

Glenn cleared his throat and said, "I heard what you said earlier. About staying away from Woodbury. I just don't know if that's possible now."

"Yeah, I get that. Just know that the governor is always on the lookout for settlements and communities to plunder. Sometimes, if you roll over right away and give him everything he wants, he'll invite you to move into Woodbury and become part of the town, but sometimes, well, sometimes he just takes what you give him and kills you anyway."

"But still you stay there." Glenn said in an unexpected moment of boldness.

Merle grinned. "I'm gonna be leaving really soon. Think I'll head up north like Daryl wanted to," he said as he reached for the small duffel bag on the floor "after I steal a crossbow from the governor."

"If you see a couple of Ruger revolvers, steal those, too." Glenn said. "Daryl liked them almost as much as he liked his crossbow."

Merle nodded and tossed the duffel bag into the back seat next to Glenn. "My baby brother, the cowboy," he smirked. "Give this bag to the spitfire, okay? Think you can do that for ol' Merle?"

Glenn nodded and grabbed the bag by the straps and got out of the truck. "Thanks for letting us go free," he said.

Merle nodded. "You ain't never done me no harm and I doubt you've done harm to my brother. Now if you'd been Rick, this might have ended differently." Merle saw a worried look cross Glenn's face and he grinned his wolfish grin, "Come on now, just bein' honest is all."

'No, I've never done harm to your brother,' Glenn thought guiltily. 'I just punched him in the head a couple times.'

The horn on the F150 started to blow. Maggie was getting impatient.

"You'd best go now." Merle said and he started his truck, "before the spitfire calls in every biter in the area."

Glenn nodded and closed the door he'd exited from. He watched Merle drive off, his truck kicking up a cloud of dirt and dust behind it, as he walked to where the F150 was parked.

* * *

Maggie was huddled in the corner against the interior of the passenger door with her feet up on the seat and her arms wrapped around her knees. Her head was bowed and her face was hidden.

Glenn tossed the duffel bag in the middle of the seat and slid in behind the steering wheel. He looked over at Maggie and sighed. "I'm so sorry, Maggie. I just don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything." Maggie's muffled voice said. "Merle's lying. Daryl isn't dead."

Glenn was going to ask why on earth Merle would lie about something like that and then he realized that he just might. If Merle made sure word got back to the group that Daryl had died, they would all mourn their loss and then move on.

Glenn cocked an eyebrow. It was actually probably a kind thing to do in a sick sort of way. Maggie would have to give up the idea that Daryl would be coming back to sweep her off her feet and that they'd ride off into the sunset together on his steel horse as she clung to his angel-winged back. She would accept the reality of her life without Daryl and then she could start to heal. If she thought he was still alive out there, she would always be waiting for him to return and she might never move on.

Glenn started the truck. "Why would Merle lie?" Glenn asked as he shifted the truck into drive.

"Because that's what Merle does. He's a big, fat liar." Maggie replied with a tone that indicated that Glenn was a moron not to know this and that the first word of her reply to him should have been 'duh'.

"Merle said to give you this." Glenn said and he pushed the duffel bag towards her. He pulled out of the Greene's driveway and onto Fairburn Road and then peeked over at Maggie. She was looking out the window and he couldn't see her face, only the back of her head.

"You're not going to see what's in it?" he asked.'

Maggie turned around and looked at him. Her eyes were red but she wasn't crying and she actually seemed to be holding together quite well for the moment. "Probably a bomb set to go off when I unzip the bag," she said.

Glenn smiled. "No. A bomb isn't Merle's style. He seems like the kind of guy that likes things up close and personal when he's going to kill someone. If he'd wanted to kill us, he would have shish-kabobed us with that gnarly knife-hand thing he's got going on."

Maggie smiled. "You've got a point there," she said, "but it isn't as impressive as the one at the end of Merle's knife-hand thing."

Glenn chuckled. "That was really stupid," he said.

"Thank you," Maggie replied. She looked down at the duffel bag and ran her finger across the top of the zipper. After a couple moments of doing that, her curiosity got the best of her and she grabbed the zipper tab and yanked the zipper open.

She was quiet and Glenn took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at the bag, but he couldn't see what was in it. "What is it?" he asked.

Maggie felt a lone tear glide down her cheek as she reached into the bag. The vest was folded neatly and it unfolded and hung open as she lifted it out of the duffel bag. The upper curve of the right dirty, tattered wing was stained red and as Maggie pressed her right index finger against it she could feel that it was wet. She pulled her finger away quickly and examined the blood now smeared on it. She held the leather vest up. It was ripped in a couple of places and there was a large hole in the right front chest area and another one behind it on the back of the vest. The leather was stained dark and the tattered hole further down on the corresponding wing was very wet and stained a deep burgundy red. There were a total of three through and through ragged, bloody holes in the vest. Maggie held the vest tight against her. She could feel her shirt becoming damp in spots as the blood on the vest seeped into it and she didn't care. Maybe Merle hadn't been lying after all.

**I cannot believe that they did what they did on TWD finale. Hopefully I'll be fully functional and done hating the writers by October when season 4 starts. **


	12. Chapter 12

Merle toyed with the idea of parking off the roadway in a stand of trees and waiting for Glenn and Maggie to turn off Fairburn Road so he could follow them from a distance and find out just where the group had set up housekeeping. After thinking about it a bit, he decided that he really didn't want to know and that if, for some reason, he needed that information at some time in the future, he could get it from Daryl.

Merle smirked. What were the chances that he would run into Glenn and Maggie and then be reunited with Daryl all on the same day? And Daryl and Maggie? What the hell? Merle was going to have a heyday with that once Daryl had recuperated. Merle thought Maggie was a fine-looking piece of ass and he smiled to himself. Yeah, she was a fine-looking piece of ass, but she hadn't been able to keep Daryl from leaving her behind so he could look for his brother. Merle actually felt smug as he decided that the old saying really was true and that blood really was thicker than water.

He wondered how long it would take before Maggie's curiosity got the better of her and she looked in the duffel bag. Merle was surprised when she accused him of lying about Daryl's demise. He had always been a smooth and convincing liar, and years of practice had only made him a better one, so he didn't expect her to doubt his story. He was glad that he had really done a number on Daryl's vest and he hoped it would convince her that her 'Tiger' had moved on to the great big jungle in the sky.

* * *

After sending Maggie to get Glenn and reading the inventory list of what was found in Daryl's truck, Merle had retrieved Daryl's vest and taken it out to the garage. He hurriedly used a hammer to drive a spike into it in three separate places. There was already some blood on the vest, but there wasn't nearly enough and it wasn't around the holes he'd made, so Merle poured blood on the vest where he felt it was needed. When he was through the vest was a bloody mess and Merle thought it looked pretty convincing.

* * *

A little over a week ago Merle had gotten a rabbit from the Tuckers who lived five houses down the street. They raised New Zealand white rabbits for meat and Merle had traded a basket of tomatoes and some wild mushrooms with them for the animal. He had been craving rabbit stew for weeks but hadn't come across a single rabbit lately while hunting. He knew the Tuckers raised rabbits, so he finally caved in and right before curfew one night the week before he stood on their porch holding a basket of tomatoes he'd grown and wild mushrooms he'd gathered and knocked at their door. Mrs. Tucker had answered the door and had fallen all over herself. She invited Merle in and called to her husband and her fourteen year old son to come quickly and greet their guest. Mr. Tucker and Benjamin Tucker were delighted that Merle had stopped in and they told him that they were huge fans of the arena fights and that he was their very favorite fighter. Merle enjoyed the attention and left ten minutes later holding a canvas sack with a rabbit in it.

Merle popped the rabbit into a large, empty wooden crate in his garage and gave it a handful of the dry food the Tuckers had given him for it. He put a cereal bowl full of water in the crate, too, and later he tossed in some lettuce from his garden.

As soon as the potatoes he'd planted were large enough for him to dig up, he was going to pop Mr. Bunny into the crock pot with some carrots, potatoes and onions and have him for dinner. The potatoes weren't ready yet but Mr. Bunny's date with destiny had been pushed up and Merle hummed as he poured the rabbit's blood on the new holes in Daryl's vest. He wrapped the rabbit carcass in the vest and carried them into the kitchen. Merle whistled the theme from "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" as he dumped the rabbit into the sink and patted the clotted blood off the vest with a damp dishcloth. When he was satisfied with the vest's appearance, he put it into the small duffel bag he'd retrieved from the spare bedroom that Daryl now occupied. He stuck Daryl's black leather belt in the bag underneath the vest, too. It had blood on it from Daryl's left side injury and Merle thought that it would just help to reinforce the story implied by the messed up winged vest. "That oughta convince her," he muttered.

Merle took less than five minutes to gut and skin the rabbit and he wrapped the entrails in the hide and tied them up in a plastic bag which he tossed into the kitchen garbage can. He'd have to remember to take the bundle of guts in the hide out to the compost pile after he'd gotten back from taking Woodbury's guests back to where he'd found them. Merle hummed as he rinsed the rabbit carcass under cold water and he had just finished wrapping it in foil and putting it in the refrigerator when Maggie arrived with Glenn in tow. He warned them about behaving in the car and made everyone use the bathroom and then they were off.

Merle planned to wait until he had arrived back at the farm with Maggie and Glenn and then tell the two of them that Daryl had died while in custody at Woodbury. He didn't want to say anything sooner than that because he didn't want to be subjected to a smattering of questions and interrogatories during the ride to the farm.

Stupid Martinez had ruined everything by meeting up with them while he was out riding around on Daryl's Harley. Of course, Maggie and Glenn had recognized Daryl's bike. Merle only hoped that Martinez hadn't caught what Maggie was saying when she started yelling at him about the motorcycle. Big-mouthed kids, anyway.

* * *

Haley had just poured the boiling water from the teakettle on the stove over the chamomile tea bag in her teacup when there was a knock on her door.

"Just a minute," she called as she pulled her freshly washed hair back into a ponytail and fastened a hair tie in it. She jogged to the door and swung it open to greet whoever was paying her a visit.

The governor smiled at her when she opened the door and Haley noticed that he was holding the Horton Scout. "Good evening," he said. "I know we met earlier today and I'm sorry just to pop in on you like this, but I wondered if you had a few minutes to talk."

Haley nodded. "I'm not really dressed for company," she said gesturing at her outfit of sweatpants and a 2010 Georgia State Archery Tournament t-shirt, "but come on in."

"You look fine, Haley," the governor said as he entered her apartment. "There is nothing wrong with dressing for comfort, especially in your own home."

"Can I get you something to drink?" Haley asked as the governor followed her to the living room. "A cup of tea or coffee? Lemonade?"

"No, but thank you for asking," the governor replied as he sat down on the couch and laid the crossbow on the cushion next to him. "I brought this over," he said, gesturing toward the weapon, "because I'm not sure when I'm going to have a chance to have you give me a lesson or to try it out and I thought you might want to test it while you're on the wall tomorrow."

Haley grinned. "Seriously? I'd love to! Thank you so much, and don't worry, I'll take very good care of it and when you want it back it will be just like I never even used it."

"I'm sure it will be in excellent and capable hands," the governor said. "I'm also here because I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about the guests that you entertained today."

'Of course,' thought Haley. 'Here comes the interrogation.' "Glenn and Maggie? They were really nice. I'm happy to tell you anything I know." she replied as she sat down in the leather chair Glenn had shot earlier that day.

The governor smiled. "You know that we want our town to grow and that we like new people to join us now and again."

Haley couldn't help but think of the two men that she had helped to capture that had been killed once they were brought back to town. Apparently they weren't the type of new people the governor wanted in Woodbury.

"But in order to be welcomed into our town and to become part of this new society, newcomers have to be willing to share what they have with us. Did these two mention anything about their group? How many of them there are and how they're set up? Do they have access to electricity? Food? Do they have the means to properly defend their home base? Now I understand that this was more of a 'getting to know each other meet and greet' sort of thing, and that they probably had a lot of questions about Woodbury. They were probably cautious and didn't say much about where they're situated or how they're set up."

Haley nodded. "When I first met them I thought they were moving into Woodbury and I was surprised when they said they were just visiting. Glenn said that they have running water and electricity and food where they are. I think they're staying at a farm that belongs to Maggie's family."

The governor nodded. That lined up with what Merle had said about finding them at the farm where he'd found a couple of goats the day before. "Did they say how many of them were in their group?" he asked.

Haley thought for a moment. "No, no they didn't, and I'm sorry that I didn't think to ask. They did say that Merle's brother had been with them but that he'd left a while ago to go look for Merle."

Haley's eyes widened as things started to fall into place in her mind. Maggie and Glenn had said that Merle's brother had a crossbow that he was very skilled at using. They had said that Merle's brother had left Glenn's group a couple of days ago headed for Fort Benning to look for Merle . A man driving a truck loaded down with supplies had been captured that morning near Fort Benning and brought into town. A crossbow was among the many weapons in the truck; an extremely well maintained crossbow complete with a bag full of hand carved and hand fletched bolts. Some of the bolts were ready to use and others were in various stages of assembly.

"Is something wrong?" the governor asked, his face expressing concern.

"I don't know." Haley said. "Glenn and Maggie said that Merle's brother uses a crossbow and that he's really good with it. I was just wondering if maybe….is there a chance that the crossbow you have now belonged to Merle's brother?"

The governor's eyes widened for a second and then he smiled. "No. I'm sure that the man who was brought in today is not related to Merle Dixon in any way."

They talked for a few more minutes and then the governor thanked Haley for her time and abruptly left.

Haley sat and peered out the window, watching the governor as he hurriedly walked away down the sidewalk. She sipped her tea and sighed. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything about what Maggie and Glenn had said about Merle's brother. Then again, if the man who was brought in with the crossbow was still alive, and if he was, indeed, Merle Dixon's brother, maybe the information she had given the governor would keep him alive. She hoped so.

* * *

The governor mulled the information he had been given over in his head. Was the prisoner that had been brought in earlier that day Merle Dixon's brother? No, he couldn't be. The governor had seen the man and he didn't look a thing like Merle, except…maybe….the eyes. The prisoner's eyes were a striking sky blue, and Merle's were an unusual shade of blue as well, but Merle's were darker. No, their eyes weren't really that similar looking after all. Were they? The governor furrowed his brow. As he walked he recalled Merle's reaction earlier in the day to the news that there was a motorcycle tied down in the back of the truck that had been brought in. Merle wondered if the man in the truck was his brother until he heard that the motorcycle was a Harley and not Merle's Triumph Bonneville. Had it been Merle's brother, though? Haley had just told him that her two guests had said that Merle's brother had been part of their group but had left 'a while ago' to go look for Merle. How long ago was 'a while ago'? Merle had expressed a desire to go looking for his brother, but the governor had needed him to keep things running smoothly in town and Merle hadn't been allowed to have 'time off' to go looking for him. If the man who was brought in was Merle's brother and he'd died at the hands of his interogators wouldn't Merle have gone ballistic?

Ken Pearson had told the governor that he had let Merle through the gates so he could dispose of a body. Ken told the governor that he had looked into the vehicle and seen the body and had even asked Merle if he needed any help tossing it into the biter pit. No, there was no way that the prisoner had been Merle's brother. So what if the prisoner had a crossbow. Silent weapons were the best kind to have now, and there were many people in Woodbury who owned compound and recurve bows. A crossbow really wasn't so unusual. Was it?

The governor looked at his watch. He had sent for Morey and Morey was probably pacing the hall in front of the governor's apartment, nervously waiting for him. He sighed at the thought. Morey was an idiot and the governor was not looking forward to this meeting. "Price you pay when you're the boss." He said to himself as he rounded the corner next to his apartment building.

* * *

Morey paced up and down the hall in front of the governor's apartment. Rodriguez had come to his house and told him the governor wanted to see him as soon as possible. Morey heard footsteps coming up the stairwell and ran his hand through his hair to smooth it down . He took a deep breath to try to calm himself. The governor came around the corner into the hallway from the stairwell and he smiled at Morey.

"Hello, Paul," the governor said. "Sorry I kept you waiting."

"Its okay," Morey said.

The governor stepped past him and pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked his apartment door. "Come inside, we need to have a little chat," he said as he opened the door. He motioned for Morey to enter in front of him and Morey swallowed and entered the governor's residence.

Morey followed the governor over to his desk and the governor motioned for him to sit down in one of the two straight back wooden chairs nearby.

Morey sat down in one of the hard, uncushioned chairs and looked longingly at the two overstuffed leather chairs next to him.

The governor sat down in his big, comfortable looking chair and reached for the decanter of Irish Whiskey on his desk. He pulled the cut crystal stopper out of the decanter and poured himself a half a glass of the alcohol before replacing the stopper.

Morey bit his bottom lip. The governor hadn't said anything to him since they'd entered the apartment and Morey was starting to get nervous.

The governor leaned back in his chair. He brought his glass to his lips and sipped his whiskey and then held the glass up, swirling the amber liquid around in the glass. "I ran into Martinez a little while ago," the governor said. "He told me that he had just spoken with his brother in law and that Rodriguez told him that the man that was scooped up this morning with the truck full of goodies met a premature end." He took another sip of his whiskey and then leaned forward and put the glass on the desk. He intertwined his fingers as he rested his hands behind the whiskey glass. "Now I know I told you and Jackson to rough the guy up a bit and that I was sending Merle to turn up the heat on him. According to Martinez, Merle told Rodriguez that the prisoner died before he had a chance to question him. Do you know anything about that or what might have caused that unfortunate event?"

Morey sighed and nodded.

"Well?" asked the governor. "Tell me what happened."

The words came rushing out of Morey. "When we caught him this morning the bastard spit on me and in order to get him under control, I had to hit him with his own damned pistol and knock him out. He came to before we got here and then, when we went in to work on him like you said to when you were done with him, the bastard spit on me again! I was livid! He got me in the face, both times! And then what the shithead said to me in the interrogation room pushed me right over the edge. Fucking bastard."

The governor gave Morey a sympathetic look. "What did he say to you that 'pushed you over the edge'," he asked.

Morey swallowed when he realized that what he was about to say. It was just angry goading on the part of the prisoner, but at the time it had seemed so much worse. Morey cleared his throat and said, "He accused me of wantin' to suck his dick and said I was ugly and it was torture to look at me."

The governor almost laughed. He raised his eyebrows and stared at the nervous, blabbering man in front of him. Did Morey really get that upset over a couple of silly insults that sounded like something a teenaged boy would come up with? Seriously? "So what did you do?" the governor asked.

Morey licked his dry lips. "He was on the floor, still taped to the chair. He was running his mouth so I…..I just….I guess I must have…"

"What. Did. You. Do," said the governor slowly and gaining volume with each word.

"I kicked him in the head!" Morey shouted. "He deserved it! He was just egging me on!"

The governor picked up his glass again and sipped his whiskey. He held the glass in his hand and closed his eyes for a second as if he was thinking some profound thought.

"I didn't think I kicked him that hard, I just.."

"How many times?" the governor asked.

"Only once," Morey said quickly. "Honest to God, I only kicked him once."

"Was he still alive when you left the room?" the governor asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, he was. I mean, I mean I think he was." Morey stuttered.

"You think he was?"

Morey started talking fast. "Jackson and I left as Merle went in to start questioning the prisoner. When I got home I realized that I forgot my jacket. When I went back to the warehouse to get it, the guy was dead and Merle was lugging him down the stairs…" Morey's eyes suddenly lit up. "I'll bet Merle killed him! That's it! Merle must have killed him! Now that I think about it, I'm sure the guy said something to me as I was leavin' the room after I kicked him. He _was_ alive when I left him in the room! _Merle_ killed him! Yeah, its so _obvious_!"

"Are you sure he was dead when you saw him last?"

"You mean when Merle was carryin' him down the stairs out to the truck to go and dump him? Yeah. He was deader than a doornail."

"Did Merle say he'd killed him?" the governor asked.

"No, but he.."

"Did Merle say what had happened or ask you any questions?"

Morey dropped his eyes and scowled. "Yeah." he mumbled.

The room was silent for a moment except for the sound of the pendulum swinging back and forth and the ticking coming from the large antique grandfather clock against the wall by one of the windows.

"Well?" the governor asked. "What did Merle say? And speak up so I can hear you."

Morey's scowl intensified. "Merle said that when he went in to question the prisoner, the guy was having trouble breathing and he died before he could question him about anything. Merle said he had to stick his knife through the guy's head to keep him from turning. He asked me if I'd done anything to the prisoner and he flipped out on me when I told him I'd kicked him in the head. Merle wasn't very nice to me. I told him the jerk had spit on me and he said it weren't no reason to kill him."

The governor nodded and said, "I'm with Merle on this one. He's right. This is the third time a potential source of information has died at your hands, Paul. I could overlook the other ones, but I don't know if I can give you a pass on this one. The only haul we've ever had that rivaled this one was the one a few weeks ago that our military friend in the crashed helicopter directed us to. You and Lenny inventoried what was in the truck today and you saw the weapons that this guy was loaded up with and he had a good supply of fuel and food, too. It was imperative to get the information on where he'd gotten these things. Now we'll never know. I'm taking you off requisition duty. You can report to Ken Pearson tomorrow and he'll move you into the gate rotation schedule."

Morey looked crestfallen. "I have to work the gate?"

The governor nodded.

Morey pouted. "But that's so boring!"

The governor narrowed his eyes at the large, whiney man and said, "would you rather go with Merle to collect biters? Or would you rather collect garbage on a daily basis and run the composters? Because I can arrange either of those jobs as well. Maybe you'd like to help Milton in his lab. Would you rather do any of those jobs instead of gate duty?"

Morey shook his head and dropped his eyes. "No."

"Good," the governor replied. "Make sure you've connected with Ken by 10:00 am tomorrow so he can adjust the gate schedule. You're dismissed. Pardon me if I don't show you out, but you know where the door is and I'm very busy."

Morey was smart enough not to say anything more and he turned and left the governor's office.

* * *

Maggie kept Daryl's leather vest hugged tightly against her until they reached the gate at the top of the driveway at the lake house. While Glenn jumped out of the truck to unlock the gate, Maggie carefully folded Daryl's vest and opened the duffel bag. Before she could move the vest into the bag, she notice that there was something else in it. She reached into the duffel bag and pulled out Daryl's well worn black leather belt. She placed the vest inside the duffel bag and when Glenn climbed back into the driver's seat, she was examining the belt.

Glenn watched Maggie for a second as she ran her fingers over the belt buckle and then the worn leather. He drove through the open gate and then stopped the truck and got out to close it.

Maggie ran her fingers over the holes in the leather used to adjust the belt's fit. She smiled as she noticed one of the well worn holes. A tear slid down her cheek as she ran her fingers down to the next hole and then the next and the next, until she came to the hole that was not quite as worn, but was the most recently used one. It was at least six inches from the one Daryl had used most and Maggie bit her lower lip. Daryl had lost weight, even since she had first laid eyes on him, but she hadn't known him or what he looked like before the reanimation of the dead started. She had noticed that he folded the excess belt tail over and back through the belt loops on his pants, but she'd never realized how much excess length there was. She had no idea how many years he'd owned the belt, but it was easy to see that his waist was much smaller than it had been. She wondered if he'd ever had a beer gut and the mental picture of the lean wide-shouldered redneck with the well-defined musculature sporting a beer belly made her smile. She slid the belt inside the duffel bag on top of the vest and zipped it closed.

Glenn brought the truck to a stop and looked over at Maggie. "I'm not going to ask you if you're okay, because I know you're not, but if you're not up to talking to the others about anything that happened, I can run interference for you and do all the talking."

Maggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Thank you. I really just want to be alone for a while."

"I understand." Glenn said and he reached his arms out to her. She leaned toward him and he pulled her into a hug and she hugged him back. "I'm sorry. I wish I could help." he said.

Maggie pulled back and Glenn looked into her eyes that were still shiny with unshed tears.

"You are helping." she said.

Glenn nodded. "Good." he said. "Just a heads up though, your shirt has blood on it. They're going to see it."

Maggie looked down at the crimson stains on her shirt that had come from the blood on Daryl's vest. "I'll hold the duffel bag in front of it." she said. "Look, you have blood on your shirt now, too. I'm sorry."

"Its okay," Glenn said. "Are you okay with me filling them in on everything? Woodbury, Merle, Daryl?"

Maggie nodded.

Rick and Hershel had come out onto the back porch to welcome Glenn and Maggie home. Maggie was glad that it was just the two of them there and not the whole Hee Haw gang.

Maggie hugged the duffel bag against her chest and as she and Glenn entered the back yard through the gate, Beth and Carl came out the kitchen door and onto the porch.

"Did you catch any chickens?" Carl called to them excitedly.

"No," Glenn said.

"I expected you back quite a while ago, was there a problem?" Rick asked.

Carl pointed at Maggie and then at Glenn. "You're bleeding!" he yelled.

Maggie looked down at could see a bloody patch on her pale green shirt near her right hip. "Damn," she muttered. As Hershel and Rick rocketed off the porch towards them, Maggie waved her arms around and yelled, "No, no, we're not bleeding! We're fine, really!"

"Is that walker blood?" Hershel asked as he examined Maggie's shirt. "Or animal blood?"

Maggie's lower lip started to tremble and her eyes filled with tears.

Rick saw Maggie's reaction and gasped. "Good Lord, neither of you are bit, are you?" he asked urgently.

"No, no, we're both fine. Really." Glenn said.

"Explain the blood." Hershel demanded. "Please."

Glenn looked over at Maggie and saw that she was reaching into the duffel bag. "It's not ours or any animal's," he said.

Maggie pulled the blood stained vest out of the bag and held it up for her father, Rick, Carl and Beth to see. "It's Daryl's."


	13. Chapter 13

A boring, 'hardly any action at all' chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you. ( now that's truth in advertising!)

"Daryl's?" Rick said as he stared at the damaged and blood stained vest. He caught himself before he asked if Daryl was okay. Of course Daryl wasn't okay. The vest Maggie was holding made that perfectly clear.

Everyone but Hershel started asking questions at once. Hershel stepped forward to embrace his daughter and Maggie wrapped her arms around him while still clutching Daryl's vest in one hand. "I'm sorry, " he said to her as he held her.

Maggie tried to be strong. She tried not to be a pussy, but she was there in the arms of her father, her safe haven. Those arms had comforted her innumerable times through various emotional crisis through the years, from scary thunderstorms and scraped knees as a young child, the loss of a beloved pet and heartaches brought on by broken teenaged romances (which now seemed foolish but had seemed devastating at the time) and the loss of her mother. She had felt a pang of selfishness as her father held her then as she cried over the loss of her mom. After all, wasn't his pain as great as or greater than her own? Now, even as a young adult, she still felt safe and loved in her Daddy's arms. She couldn't hold the tears back any longer.

"Let's go inside." Hershel said softly.

Maggie wiped her eyes and then broke from her father just long enough to retrieve the duffel bag on the ground next to Glenn. "Okay," she sniffled as she returned to her father's comforting embrace.

Hershel steered his distraught eldest daughter up onto the porch and into the house as Beth followed.

Glenn, Rick and Carl stayed behind.

"I can explain what happened." Glenn told Rick as his eyes followed Maggie until she had disappeared into the house.

"Good and then everyone needs to be in on this." Rick said as they stepped up onto the porch. "Carl, could you find everyone and tell them we're going to be meeting out on the deck in ten minutes?"

Carl nodded. "Sure thing, Dad," he said and he turned to leave. Rick reached out and took hold of his son's arm. "Carl, please don't say anything about Daryl or what we just heard. I don't want everyone in an uproar before we're all gathered together."

"Okay." Carl agreed. "I won't say anything, only that you're calling a meeting and you want everyone there."

Rick patted Carl on the shoulder. "That's my boy. Thank you."

Carl ran into the house to gather everyone together for the meeting and Rick stopped and looked at Glenn. "I'm not big on surprises," he said, "so before we all get together, would you clue me in to what happened?"

Glenn moved to the bench on the porch near the entrance to Daryl's room and sat down. Rick sat down next to him and turned and looked at Glenn expectantly.

Glenn adjusted his baseball cap on his head and took a deep breath. "Merle was at the farm today," he said.

Rick's eyes got big and then he frowned. "Merle? Merle Dixon? At the Greene farm?"

Glenn nodded. "Yeah. He had grabbed a couple of goats there the day before and he hid in the barn when he saw us drive up in the truck. He got the jump on us."

Rick ran a hand through his hair and stood up. Now he was too antsy to sit. "Did he hurt either of you?"

Glenn watched Rick as Rick began to pace. "No, he didn't." Glenn said. "It was really strange in a way. He sort of kidnapped us."

Rick stopped pacing and stared at Glenn. "He what?! He 'sort of' kidnapped you? What do you mean, 'sort of'? Did he force you to go with him? I thought you said he didn't hurt you!"

"That's just it. He didn't hurt us at all, but yes, he did force us to go with him." Glenn took his hat off and started to twist it nervously in his hands.

"Where did he take you? What did he do?" Rick demanded.

Glenn continued to fiddle with his hat and the words rushed out of him as he excitedly started to tell Rick about his and Maggie's Adventure With Merle. "He took us to Woodbury, the town where he's staying. Rick you should see it! Merle said that there are more than eighty people living there. It's amazing. They've barricaded the town and have guards set up around the perimeter on the walls. No walkers can get in! They have power and water and people live in houses and apartments. Everyone strolls around town without having to worry about the walkers! It's just like how things used to be."

Glenn's rambled on excitedly. "Merle has a nice little house and I was surprised because he keeps it really clean and organized. I didn't think Merle would be neat. I mean, I know Daryl became a real neat freak after he moved into this house and maybe it's just something with Dixons having their own houses to live in, you know, because I always figured the Dixon brothers were both slobs, but anyway, Merle's house was clean and cozy and Merle even has his own garden. Can you imagine that? He's good at gardening, too, and he's got a ton of really nice tomatoes."

Glenn paused his ramble to take a breath and Rick, who was still pacing, looked at him like he was nuts. "Merle Dixon kidnapped you and took you to Woodbury?" he asked.

Glenn started on another roll. "Yeah. Merle was going to show us around, but the guy who runs the town, the governor is what they call him, he sent for Merle because he had a job for him to do so Merle told us to explore on our own so we did. We met this really cool girl…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Rick stopped his pacing. He looked confused. "Merle Dixon took you to a town where he has a house and a garden and he let you walk around and explore it on your own because his boss called him in to work?"

"Yeah," Glenn said as he nodded.

"If I didn't know better I'd ask if you and Maggie had gotten into some hallucinogenic mushrooms you found or something." Rick said. He scratched his head and sighed. "I'm just having a really hard time putting my head around this. Okay, so how does Daryl fit into all of this? Is Daryl with Merle? Is he hurt? Of course he's hurt, his vest...the blood. Did Merle and Daryl get into a fight? I thought I saw a hole in the vest. Daryl didn't get shot, did he?"

Glenn dropped his eyes and sighed. "I don't know." he said. He brought his eyes up to meet Rick's and Rick could see that Glenn looked worried. "Merle had questioned me about Daryl when we were on our way to Woodbury. He seemed mighty pleased that Daryl had left the group to go look for him."

"I'll bet he did," Rick said. In his mind he could just see the smirk on the older Dixon's face when Glenn gave him the news.

Glenn talked more, "I told him that Daryl was going to head to Fort Benning first to see if he was there. Merle was going to show us around and then he got called away. Maggie went to his house later and he had gotten back from doing whatever he had to do and was in a big rush to bring us back to the farm."

Glenn paused for a second to arrange his thoughts, and then continued, "As we were leaving Woodbury, some guy Merle knows came riding up to Merle's truck on Daryl's motorcycle. Of course, Merle denied it was Daryl's motorcycle and Maggie said she knew it was Daryl's and she started questioning Merle about where Daryl was and Merle didn't want to tell her."

"But did he?" Rick asked. He stopped pacing and looked at Glenn. This did not sound good.

Glenn leaned back and met Rick's gaze and then looked away. "Maggie got all beggy," he said, "and Merle caved and told her that Daryl had been caught that morning. Merle was out looking for supplies and he didn't know Daryl had been brought in. No one knew that Daryl was Merle's brother. Merle said that Daryl wouldn't tell the guys who caught him where he'd gotten all the weapons and ammo from so they...they killed him. "

Rick bent down and looked into Glenn's face. "What?!"

"Merle said that the job he was sent to do while we were there was to try to get information out of some guy that had been captured that morning driving around with a shit ton of weapons and ammo. No one there knew Daryl was Merle's brother and Merle said he didn't know Daryl was the guy he was supposed to try to beat information out of, okay, Merle didn't say that but I knew that's what he was going to do, until he went into the room to question him. He said he knew it was Daryl when he saw his face but he was already dead. The other guys had killed him. Merle said he didn't tell anyone that Daryl was his brother because then they would have questioned him and thought he and Daryl were in cahoots with each other and were planning on attacking the town."

Rick was pacing again. "Merle hadn't seen Daryl until today? The same day he happens to bump into you and Maggie? Doesn't that seem a bit odd to you? Shit! Merle didn't follow you here, did he?"

"No, well, I don't think so," Glenn said.

Rick stood up straight and ran a hand through his wavy and longer than he liked it hair. "And he said he saw Daryl and that Daryl was dead. Dammit."

"Yeah, then he said he was going to steal Daryl's crossbow and leave town." Glenn continued. "Merle said that he'd go north like Daryl had wanted to."

"Do you believe him?" Rick asked.

"Well…yeah, I guess so. I mean, at the beginning I might not have believed the part about Daryl being dead, but now I believe that, too."

"How do you know he's not lying about that?"

"Because when he first took us into Woodbury, I'm quite sure he was going to try to find out where we were staying and how we were set up for supplies so he could swoop in with his cronies and kill us all and steal all of our resources. That is definitely the impression I got. While we're there, he gets called away and says he has 'business to tend to' and then, when he gets back, he makes Maggie go and round me up so we can get out of town as soon as possible and he takes us back to the farm and drops us off and then leaves. On the way back to the farm he didn't question us at all about where we were staying or how many of us there were like he did on the way to Woodbury. He just didn't care anymore about any of that stuff. Then there's the vest and Daryl's belt. Merle had put those in the duffel bag and wanted Maggie to open it. You saw the vest. It's Daryl's vest. Merle didn't have a vest with wings on it. The belt is Daryl's belt. The guy we met riding Daryl's Harley wasn't riding a motorcycle that looked like or was similar to Daryl's bike. He was riding _Daryl's bike_. Would the Daryl Dixon you know let some random guy just take his Harley out for a spin? "

Rick raised his eyebrows. Glenn had a good point there. "Are they a threat?" he asked, "Will they come looking for us?"

Glenn shook his head and said, "We're more than forty miles from the farm, so I don't think we have too much to worry about. Merle doesn't know where we are and he doesn't care."

Rick nodded. "I guess you're right." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I suppose we should head inside and get this meeting over with."

Glenn stood up and followed Rick into the house.

* * *

Maggie stopped in the kitchen and released her grip on her father. She wiped her eyes and tried to collect herself. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to be such a wreck."

Hershel shook his head. "Maggie, don't ever apologize for being human." Maggie stepped over to the key rack on the wall and took a key off of it. She turned and gave her father and her sister a small teary eyed smile just as Carl came bursting through the kitchen door.

"Dad wants everyone to meet on the deck so he can talk to all of us." he announced as he came to an abrupt halt.

"Thanks, Carl." Hershel said and then Carl was off, running through the dining room on his way to the stairs.

Beth reached out for Maggie's hand. "Come on out to the deck with me and I'll sit with you." she said.

"No," Maggie said as she wiped her eyes again. "But thank you. I think I just want to be alone for a little while."

Beth bit her lower lip and looked at her father, wordlessly asking him to do something. She didn't think it was a good idea for Maggie to be alone.

She was sure her father had developed the ability to read her mind when he asked Maggie, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Maggie looked at the floor and fidgeted. "Not really, but I don't feel like being around when Glenn explains what happened and everyone…" she took in a shaky breath and continued, "… everyone starts staring and asking questions."

"Do you want to tell me and your sister what happened?" Hershel asked.

Maggie bit her lower lip and then shook her head. "No. You should go on out and talk with Glenn. I just need to be alone right now."

Hershel nodded and reached out to squeeze Maggie's shoulder. "If you want to talk, I'm here for you," he told her.

"Me, too." Beth said as she stepped forward and wrapped both her arms around her sister.

Maggie embraced Beth and quietly said, "Thank you," into her ear, and then they stepped back and walked through the dining room and into the living room.

* * *

Dale was just stepping down from the second floor landing with Andrea right behind him and Maggie bolted towards the hallway to avoid them as Hershel and Beth moved closer to the bottom of the stairs to run interference if they needed to.

Neither Dale nor Andrea had noticed Maggie's hasty retreat and Maggie could hear Dale addressing her father and asking him if he knew what the meeting was all about as she slid the key into the lock on Daryl's bedroom door. She opened the door and it creaked in protest as if warning her to keep out because there was no one in there now but ghosts.

She slid into the room and closed and locked the door behind her. As she turned to look at the room, her back pressed against the door she had just closed, she wondered if coming into this room was a mistake.

The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. The bed was as she'd left it. She had made the bed after she had finally dragged herself out of it the morning Daryl had left. He had left the pillow he'd slept on and the one she had slept on as well.

"What? You think I was gonna yank it out from under your head and risk waking you up? Not very likely, Missy."

Maggie giggled and then started to cry again. What the heck? Daryl had told her that Merle talked to him in his head. Was he now talking to her in hers? She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed next to the nightstand and wiped at tears that continued to fall.

The tiger lilies in the Yukon Jack bottle had dropped their petals and the drying, shriveled remnants littered the top of the nightstand. Maggie bit her trembling lower lip as she took in the sight. The flowers had been beautiful but they hadn't lasted long and now they were dead. 'Death comes for every living thing," she thought. "For Lilys, tiger lillies, and Tigers, too. It comes for us all.'

The thought brought her no comfort and if anything, it increased her despair.

* * *

There were four walkers milling about in the street, heading towards Woodbury's main gate when Merle came driving up Woodbury Road. Merle smiled and hit the gas. "I don't see no crosswalk!" he shouted as the truck hit the first two walkers and they disappeared beneath it. "So I got right of way!" he hollered and his grin widened as he hit the next walker. The force of the impact tore the walker in two and the top half of it flew up and hit the windshield and then rolled off the hood, leaving the windshield splashed with tarry red-black blood and shredded intestines. Merle hit the windshield wash lever with his stump and wiper fluid sprayed the windshield and the wipers thumped back and forth as they pushed the gore across and off the windshield. He mowed down the last walker and then slammed on the brakes right in front of Woodbury's gate.

Martinez was laughing as he jumped down from where he had been standing on the wall next to the gate watching Merle and he helped Jeff open the gate to let the redneck fool in.

"You are a sonuva bitch!" Martinez laughed as Merle rolled down the truck's window to speak with him once the gate was safely closed behind the gut splattered truck.

Merle grinned, "You like that, did ya?"

"Shit, I could hear you yellin' about having right of way." Martinez said, still grinning. "You crazy bastard!"

Merle chuckled. "Hell, you know how many times I wanted to plow right through some dumbass j-walkin' across the street in front of me back before the world went to shit? Now I can do it without bein' hauled in for murder."

Martinez shrugged. "Hey, if it makes you happy.., oh and speaking of happy, Rodriguez told me that the prisoner died before you could question him."

Merle gave Martinez a puzzled look and said, "What the hell does that have to do with bein' happy?"

Martinez smiled his devilish smile again and said, "The governor was none too happy when I told him about it."

"Tsk tsk tsk," Merle clucked, as he mocked disapproval. "Ain't you just the playground snitch!" He grinned and asked, "So did he haul ol' Morey in? Spank his hiney a few times and make him promise to be a good boy?"

"He was some pissed. I heard Morey's been taken off requisition duty and is going to be working the gate for now on. The governor isn't too pleased that we never found out where all the weapons and shit that guy was haulin' came from."

Merle nodded. "I'll bet."

"You have a nice night, Merle. I'm on here for another hour." Martinez turned to leave and then he turned back around and called to Merle who had just started forward. "Oh, hey, Merle!"

Merle braked and said, "No, I ain't gonna kiss you goodnight."

"Asshole." Martinez answered and then he continued. "What the hell was that chick you were drivin' out a town with sayin' about my bike belongin' to some Daniel guy? Do you think she knew who the guy with the weapons was?"

Merle scoffed. "Shit, no. Daniel was some guy with their group and someone stole his motorcycle a while back. You know women. They think all motorcycles look the same. She didn't know what the hell she was talkin' about."

"You're probably right," Martinez conceded and then he added his own commentary, "Dumb broads."

Merle smiled and continued on his way.

* * *

Merle didn't drive to his house. He stopped in front of the governor's apartment building instead and walked up the stairs to the second floor. He stood in the hallway in front of the governor's apartment door for a moment and took a deep breath and then knocked.

"Who is it?" asked the governor and he did not sound pleased. It was after curfew and he hadn't sent for anyone.

"It's Merle. I need to talk to you." The governor didn't answer but in a moment Merle heard the deadbolt being slid aside and the door opened.

The governor was in a burgundy colored velour bathrobe and he wore dark Italian leather slippers on his feet. "I'm glad you stopped by, Merle. I need to talk to you about something, too." he said as he motioned for Merle to enter.

Merle ended up sitting across the desk from the governor in the same chair he'd been seated in earlier that day.

The governor sat back in his chair and smiled at Merle. He picked up a glass that held about an inch of whiskey in it and as was his habit, he swirled it around in the glass. "How about if I go first?" he said.

Merle thought the governor sure looked pleased with himself about something and it almost made him nervous. If he had been anyone but a Dixon, it would have.

"Sure." Merle said. "You're the boss."

"I'm glad we both agree on that." the governor said. "Now let's talk about the man Morey killed today, Merle, shall we? Let's discuss your brother."

**Dun dun dun! **


	14. Chapter 14

**There is a lot of jumping around in this chapter. Just thought I'd warn you so you can take some Dramamine before continuing if you have to. This is yet another not-very-action-packed chapter. Sorry. I'm an action failure lately, but I promise I'll make it up to you later. If you want nonstop action, check out Peachuzoid's "Adieu" It is so chock full of action that I get pooped just reading it. It was 77 degrees here Friday and it is 17 right now. Why to I live here again? **

Daryl awoke slowly from a deep and dreamless sleep. The first thing he became aware of was that he had one hell of a headache. He yawned and barely opened his sleepy eyes. The room was dark.

The second thing he became aware of was that he was naked.

That was nothing new. He liked to sleep in the buff and here in his own room at the lake house….reality came rushing back like a well thrown boomerang. He wasn't at the lake house. He'd left the house and the group behind. He sat up quickly and his head punished him for his quick motion with a bout of dizziness that sent him falling back into his pillow. He closed his eyes and tried to think. This was not his bed and this certainly was not his room. Where the hell was he? Where were his clothes? Why couldn't he remember? He took a deep breath.

Okay, he thought; what did he know? He knew he was in a strange bed in a strange room and that he didn't have a fucking stitch of clothing on. What else? His head ached something awful. His eyes were almost swollen shut and his back, stomach, arms, ankles and his ribs were experiencing varying degrees of pain. Okay, one of two things had happened. He'd either

1. fallen down several flights of stairs or

2. someone had beaten the shit out of him.

He decided it was more than likely that option 2. had occurred. Had he gotten into a fight and if so, with whom? Where were his damned clothes? He groaned and slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. His memory was clogging up like a public toilet. What the hell happened and where the hell was he?

* * *

The governor was disappointed with Merle's reaction. He hadn't actually expected Merle to gasp or shriek or do anything dramatic like that at his announcement, but he at least expected a look of surprise from the surly man. What he did not expect at all was the grin that spread across Merle's face.

Merle sat back in his chair and chuckled. "Why that's just what I came here to talk to you about," he said.

"So you admit that the man that was brought in today really was your brother?" the governor asked.

Merle's demeanor suddenly became serious. "Yes. Was my baby brother. Daryl. I could hardly believe it when I laid my eyes on him. He was too far gone to respond to me at all when I came into the interrogation room and he died less than a minute later."

The governor sat forward in his chair. "And you didn't see fit to come and let me know about this?"

"I'm here now. I had to take care of things first."

"You should have let me know immediately! Dammit, Merle!" the governor shouted.

"I had to take care of things, first." Merle repeated with a growl, surprising the governor with his obstinacy. "He was my brother and I owed him that."

The governor took a deep breath and calmed himself down. "Okay, okay. Morey said you told him you had to put a knife into the prisoner's head to keep him from turning. Is that true? Did you do that? To your own brother?"

"I wasn't going to let Daryl come back as a biter. Of course I did it. I had to do right by him."

The governor pulled another highball glass from out of his desk drawer and filled it half full of whiskey as Merle continued.

"I'm here to see you tonight for three reasons." Merle said. "The first is to tell you about Daryl, the second is to fill you in on today's two guests and the third is to let you know in advance that I'm going to kill Paul Morey."

The governor slid the glass of whiskey he'd poured across the desk to Merle and gave Merle a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry for your loss Merle, I really am. I'm sure your brother would have made a fine addition to Woodbury." He sighed and leaned back in his chair again. "You know, it's a damned shame that you weren't here when he was brought in. If you had been the one that went in to question him first, I've no doubt that he would have eagerly joined us. The three of us would be sitting here together right now in much better spirits, planning a trip to his supply cache."

Merle picked up the glass of whiskey the governor had offered him and took a small sip of it. He knew the governor was trying to make him feel guilty about Daryl's 'death'. 'Oh boo hoo, Merle! If you had been here instead of out looking for goats, your brother would still be alive! His death is your fault!' Manipulative bastard. Merle held the whisky in his mouth for a second before swallowing it and was surprised at the explosion of complex flavors that washed over his taste buds. 'Well I'll be damned, the conceited ass was right', he thought.

"I can't let you kill Morey, Merle." The governor was saying. "I know the man is an idiot, but he's a _useful_ idiot.

"I wasn't asking for permission." Merle replied sharplyand he tilted his glass up and finished his drink in one swallow.

The governor frowned. "Don't test my patience, Merle," he warned. "I understand that you're upset, but you need to look at the big picture. Tell you what, when we're done here, you can go to the warehouse if you like and look through the items that were brought in with Darren. Help yourself to any of his personal items, okay?"

Merle nodded. "Thanks, I'll do that. There are really only three things that I want that were his." Merle told the governor. "His crossbow, his revolvers and his bike."

The governor furrowed his brow in thought. "Martinez has been riding around on the motorcycle, but I never said he could have it. Just tell him I'm giving it to you. If he gives you a hard time, send him to see me. The revolvers are in the new acquisition vault with the other weapons at the warehouse and I was going to keep the crossbow, but if it was Darren's, I guess it really belongs to you now. Haley has it; you can get it from her at your leisure. Tell her I said to give it to you."

Merle nodded and forced himself to say,"Thank you."

"Now tell me about the young couple that was here today." The governor said as he pulled the stopper out of the whisky decanter and refilled both his and Merle's glass.

Merle scratched his chin with his hand. "I told you I knew Glenn from the group that left me on the roof in Atlanta. I'd never met the girl. I drove 'em back to the farm after I'd finished up with Daryl and I questioned them about him. They'd told me on the way here that he'd left the group to come looking for me. I wanted to know when he'd left and if they knew where all his supplies had come from. They said he'd left the farm where the group was staying over a month ago," Merle lied. "They had some big falling out and Daryl had been arguin' and fightin' with everyone so he just up and left. They said he stole most of their food supply from 'em, too, but that they only had a couple of shotguns and pistols for protection and that he didn't take those." Merle paused for a second and took a sip of his drink. "Oh, here's something interesting: the girl told me that lately they've seen biters in military clothing around and they wondered if maybe there wasn't some sort of military base set up somewhere nearby that ended up getting overrun."

"Hmmm, that_ is _interesting." the governor said. "Ken Pearson told me that his brother was an officer in the army and that the last time he heard from him was when the infection was starting to spread. Ken said his brother told him he was going to some sort of special base in Atlanta that was set up just in case something like this happened. He told Ken to sit tight and that the military would be able to handle it. I'll just bet your brother stumbled across an abandoned or overrun base. That would explain the military grade weapons and ammo he had." He took another sip of his drink and then asked, "Do you think our visitors were telling you the truth?"

Merle pretended to ponder the question for a few seconds before replying. "Don't see why they wouldn't be. They did express an interest in joining up with us in the future. They're on the girl's family farm right now. Her dad is old and set in his ways and wants to spend his last days there. I'm sure once he's gone, they'll be wantin' to move in here. There's only six of 'em and they ain't gonna do us no harm and they don't have enough supplies to make it worth taking them at this point. I already snagged a couple of their goats and some chickens."

"And every little bit helps, Merle, but if you think they'll want to join us eventually, we can leave them alone. For now."

Merle took a sip of his whisky and then put the glass down.

The governor studied him for a moment and damned if Merle didn't start to feel a bit uncomfortable.

"I hate to ask you this, and I'm sure it's a touchy subject, but I need to know."

Merle was pretty sure he knew what question was coming.

"What did you do with your brother's body?" the governor asked. "Surely you didn't throw.."

"Yeah, I did." Merle snapped, secretly pleased that he had known what the governor would ask. "Wasn't like I could take the time to bury him, what with one hand and all. I did what needed doin'. I made sure he wouldn't turn. I did right by him. "

The governor gave Merle a look of disgust. "You actually threw your _own brother_ into the _pit_?"

"No, I threw his _body_ into the pit. Body's just a shell a who we were. It weren't Daryl no more."

The governor raised his eyebrows slightly and brought his glass to his lips. Merle Dixon had driven his knife through his younger brother's skull and then thrown his body into a pit to be torn apart by hungry biters. The governor decided right then and there that Merle really was a brutal badass mofo if he could do that to his only remaining family member without hesitating. He was impressed and pleased. "Merle, again, you have my condolences."

Merle sighed. "Only upside to this is that now I won't be wonderin' where he is or how he's doin' or be feelin' the need to try and find him. I have my answers now and I know where he is."

The governor nodded. "That's a good way of looking at things, Merle. A really good way," he said.

Merle finished his whisky and set the glass down. "We done now?" he asked.

The governor nodded. "Yes and why don't you take the next day or two off? Relax a bit. But Merle, I'm serious about you leaving Morey alone."

Merle stood up to leave and said, "Think I'll take you up on the days off deal. You mind if I head out of town for a couple days? Maybe do some exploring and get some hunting in?"

The governor smiled. "I think that's a great idea Merle, and it gives me the added bonus of not having to be worried about you going after Morey for a couple of days. Take what you need for supplies and ammo and try to enjoy yourself a bit. I'm sure Darren would have wanted you to get over his loss as quickly as possible."

"Daryl. His name was Daryl." Merle said and he turned and walked to the door.

* * *

Everyone but Maggie and Carol had gathered on the deck. Carol was still under what amounted to "house arrest" and had spent the last few days locked in what had been Carl's bedroom. Carl had moved into the room that Andrea shared with Carol and Andrea had moved into Glenn's room.

Carol's meals were brought to her by Dale and Andrea and Andrea would take her into the bathroom in the morning and again at noon and in the evening.

Carol couldn't understand why she was being treated so badly. After all, she had just wanted to do what was best for Daryl and everyone else. Hershel had started her on Lithium and he would spend a couple of hours with her each day. He ate his meals with her and tried to answer her questions, but he was firm with her when she had complained about being supervised or locked in her room. She had wanted to kill Daryl and no one trusted her now. The day Daryl left, Maggie, in her anger, had suggested taking Carol out for a drive and dropping her off about thirty miles from the house with some food and a knife and letting her fend for herself. Her suggestion had been shot down, although Lori and even Andrea had secretly agreed with it at the time. Even thought Rick's bullet wound had not been life threatening and was healing well, Lori didn't know if she could ever forgive Carol for shooting her husband.

The lively chatter from the members of the group quieted immediately when Glenn and Rick stepped out onto the deck and approached the table everyone was seated at.

Glenn took a seat at the table and Rick remained standing.

Rick ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat before he spoke. "I know you're all wondering what's going on and why I called this meeting, so first I want to reassure you that I don't believe we are in any sort of danger. Well, no more danger than usual."

There was a collective sigh of relief from the group gathered on the deck.

"But I do have news and it isn't good. As you know, Glenn and Maggie went to the Greene farm today in order to try to collect some more livestock. While they were there they met up with Merle Dixon."

Everyone started talking at once.

"I thought he was dead."

"Merle? Was he alone? What did he want?"

"Did he hurt Maggie? Is that why she isn't out here with us?"

"Was he with Daryl?"

"Okay, okay, calm down, Maggie and Glenn are both okay," Rick said, as he took back control of the meeting. "Glenn will let you all know what happened. Maggie wasn't hurt."

"So why isn't she out here?" Andrea asked.

Rick looked at the people seated around the table in front of him. All of their eyes were on him.

Glenn spoke up. "Maggie's really upset right now. She just wants to be alone."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Andrea snapped. "We're all upset about Daryl leaving. She needs to suck it up and…"

"Daryl's dead." Glenn interrupted. He knew that Rick was going to make that sad announcement but he wanted Andrea to back off with the Maggie bashing. "Merle told us that he was captured and killed earlier today."

Andrea opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't get any words out. Everyone else started talking at the same time.

"You trust Merle Dixon to tell the truth?" Dale asked.

"Normally, no, I wouldn't," said Glenn. "but I believe him this time." Glenn went on to tell the group about Woodbury and about seeing Daryl's motorcycle on their way back to the farm with Merle. He told them about what Merle had said.

"Merle could still by lying about Daryl." Lori said.

Glenn looked at Rick and Rick nodded.

Glenn shook his head and said, "You tell them."

"Tell us what?" Andrea asked.

"Merle sent Daryl's vest and his belt back with Glenn and Maggie. There was a lot of damage to his vest and a lot of blood on it. I hate to say it, but I think Merle is telling the truth. He told Glenn and Maggie that he was going to take Daryl's crossbow and leave Woodbury and go north."

Everyone spoke at once again and Hershel asked if everyone would please respect Maggie's desire to be alone for a while.

Rick dismissed everyone after telling them that he didn't think Woodbury was a threat to them at this time. The town was over fifty miles away and the lake house was well hidden in a very remote area. He hoped he was right.

* * *

Merle pulled his truck into his garage and unlocked the door to the kitchen. He stepped into the dark room and flipped the light switch and then strode quickly down the hall, stopping in front of the guest bedroom. He pulled a key out of his pocket with his left hand, unlocked the door and entered the room, flicking the light switch as he entered. The light did not come on. "Shit," Merle grumbled, "fuckin' blown bulb." He looked around in the darkened room as his eyes became accustomed to the low light. His eyes grew wide when he saw that the bed was empty.

"Daryl?" he asked as he walked over to the bed and peeked around it. He smiled and gave a sigh of relief when he saw his brother. Daryl was curled up on the floor wrapped up in a sheet and with a blanket pulled up over and around his head so that only his eyes were visible. Merle stood next to Daryl for a second and then gave him a light kick in the ass with the toe of his boot. "Get your ass up," he said.

Daryl sat up immediately and started thrashing around, trying to free himself of the blanket wrapped around him.

"Easy there, Darleena, it's just me." Merle laughed. "Don't be gettin' your panties all bunched up."

"Merle?" Daryl said in a shaky voice and the smile immediately left Merle's face. Daryl sounded panicked. "Merle?!"

Merle crouched down next to Daryl. "Hey, it's me. I'm right here. You okay?"

Daryl looked around the room frantically with wild eyes. "Where the fuck am I? _Merle_? What is this place? _Where the hell are we_?"

Shit, thought Merle, something wasn't right and Daryl was starting to freak out. "You're at my house. Don't you.."

"_My clothes_! My clothes are gone! _What happened_?! Was I..?" Daryl asked as he grabbed on to Merle's arm and clung to it like his life depended on it.

Merle pushed Daryl off of him roughly. "What the fuck!? You need to calm your ass down _right now_ little brother before I kick your teeth in!"

"_Fuck you_! You took my clothes! _This isn't funny, Merle_!" Daryl yelled. "Why are you.."

Merle slapped Daryl hard across his face and then grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him roughly. "_Shut up and_ c_alm. The. Fuck. Down_!" he shouted.

Daryl whimpered and pulled away from Merle. He scrambled back against the bed and huddled there, glaring at Merle with angry and hurt filled eyes. Blood started running from his nose.

"Aw, fuck." Merle said quietly. "I'm sorry. Shit. Now you're bleedin' again."

"Like you fuckin' care." Daryl angrily replied.

Merle tried to remain calm. "Look, Daryl, you're in my house with me. You were caught this morning and brought to Woodbury. Don't you remember?"

Daryl shook his head and continued to glare at Merle.

Merle sighed. Daryl couldn't remember where he was or how he'd gotten there. Wasn't this just peachy.

"Okay, okay. Just relax. I'm gonna get you some clothes and then I'll walk you through what happened." Merle said. "Hopefully that will jog your memory, 'cause we've got shit to do tonight and then we're outta here."

* * *

Daryl watched Merle leave the room to go and fetch him some clothes. He was so confused. His headache was getting worse and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He climbed up onto the bed and curled up in a fetal position and pulled the sheet over his aching body. His confused mind started racing and he closed his eyes and tried to stop the flood of thoughts suddenly trying to crowd their way into his head all at once. He felt like his mind was ready to break and that any thread of sanity was quivering and starting to frazzle. He was sure that it would snap soon, plunging him into insanity and there would be nothing left. His mind would be irreparably broken and he'd be nothing but a blithering idiot.

Daryl bit his lip and tried to fight the rush of thoughts. The pain in his head increased and he tried to push it down, to get up on top of it, but it was too intense and as it topped out, it ripped through his skull like a lightning bolt. His eyes rolled back and his body jerked and just before his senses shut down a crystal clear voice pierced the confusion in his head. It wasn't just any voice, it was her voice, Maggie's voice, _his_ Maggie's voice and a smile played about his lips as her words followed him down into quiet darkness. "I'll always love you, Tiger. Always."


	15. Chapter 15

**Good evening and welcome to the latest chapter of Exodus. Are we all ready to learn about cricket songs? Good! **

Merle returned to the guest bedroom with some clean clothing and a light bulb. He placed the clothing on the bed at Daryl's feet and fumbled with the lamp on the dresser, holding his right arm against its base so he could unscrew the blown out light bulb with his left hand. The light came on as Merle twisted the new bulb into the lamp's socket. "Okay, baby brother," he said as he turned toward the bed, "Let's talk about what's goin' on and get that mess in your head straightened out." Merle sighed when he saw that Daryl was asleep again and he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Daryl?" Merle shook his brother's shoulder in an attempt to rouse him, "Come on, you were awake just a moment ago." Merle slapped lightly at Daryl's face, "You gotta wake up baby brother, time's a wastin'," he told him.

The pain in his head and the confused jumble of thoughts came roaring back as Daryl awoke to Merle gently cuffing his cheeks. He coughed and reached up to weakly bat Merle's slap happy hand away from his face. "Don't," he mumbled.

Merle smiled. "There you are." Daryl's eyes opened a crack and although they initially looked in his direction, Merle felt like they were looking through him and not at him. He watched as Daryl's pale blue eyes rolled to the left, then upward and then moved in small jerky movements to the right before closing. "Mother fuckin' Morey," Merle cursed under his breath. "Governor can go to hell! The bastard deserves to die….fuckin' you up like this."

Daryl winced. His head felt like it was about to explode as jumbled thoughts and memories raced and tumbled through his mind. His mother crying as she crouched in a corner as Pa beat her, Lily yelling to him to "get out of here, now", Merle holding him down against a cold cement floor, T-Dog asking for his revolver, Merle stepping in front of him as Pa came at him with a broken beer bottle.

Daryl groaned and covered his head with his arms as he buried his face in the pillow.

Merle was worried. Something was definitely not right with his little brother. He placed his hand on Daryl's shoulder and he was actually surprised to feel Daryl trembling. "Shit!" Merle exclaimed, "You're shakin' like one of them massage beds you stick quarters in at the Double Tree Hotel."

Daryl could barely hear Merle over the noise in his head and the pressure in his skull reached critical mass. A sensation like a hot knife being driven through his forehead slammed into him and his eyes flew open. His whole body convulsed violently and it felt like something in his head popped. Blood suddenly gushed from his nose, soaking the pillow and Daryl sat up quickly and placed his hand over his nose and mouth as blood continued to flow from his nose and through his fingers. Daryl's eyes were wide and he looked at Merle and then pulled his bloody hand away from his face and examined it.

"What the fuck?!" Merle hollered as he grabbed the t-shirt he'd put at the foot of the bed and moved forward to.. what? Wipe the blood off Daryl's face? Forcibly dress him? Merle didn't know what the hell to do as blood bubbled from Daryl's nose, he just knew he had to do something. Daryl started coughing and choking and Merle started thumping him on the back. Isn't that what you were supposed to do when someone was coughing or choking?

Apparently, Daryl didn't think so because he spun around towards Merle and threw a fist at him as he stopped coughing just long enough to gasp, "Stop fuckin' hittin' me." The blow landed hard in the center of Merle's chest and Daryl's coughing fit continued.

Merle was surprised by his brother's lack of appreciation for his attempt at helping, and totally pissed off that the ungrateful little boob had just hit him, but he took a deep breath was able to control the urge to clobber Daryl. Merle watched as Daryl turned away from him again and dropped his head between his knees, coughing violently as spittle and blood sprayed from his mouth.

Merle started enthusiastically thumping Daryl on the back again and almost knocked him off the bed.

Daryl finally stopped choking and coughing and Merle stopped his thumping. Daryl moved over and sat on the edge of the bed, his head lowered and Merle could hear him panting. Sweat beaded his forehead and matted down his hair. Droplets of sweat chased each other down his back and his shoulders and his chest were wet with sweat and blood.

Merle slid over closer to Daryl and reached tentatively toward him with the clean t-shirt in his hand. He touched Daryl's face with it and Daryl sat up straight and looked at Merle as his breathing started to even out.

Merle pressed the shirt against Daryl's cheek and dabbed it around Daryl's bloody mouth and chin. _He was struck with how familiar his actions felt and suddenly he remembered that he had done this many many times, only he'd had a washcloth or a dishrag and Daryl had been four, five, and six years old. "Feels like you're tryin' to erase my face." Daryl's muffled little voice would say as Merle mashed the damp cloth into his little brother's filthy face and rubbed it around vigorously._

"Thanks, but I got it." Daryl said quietly and he brought his hand up and took the shirt now pressed against his chest from Merle.

Merle wondered if Daryl had read his mind when he added, "Besides, I ain't a kid no more."

Merle nodded and swallowed. "You okay? You scared the hell out of me."

Daryl folded the shirt so a clean section was visible and he closed his eyes and ran the shirt over his sweaty forehead. "'Sorry 'bout hittin' ya," he mumbled. "Guess I'm lucky you chose not to hit me back."

Merle pursed his lips. Daryl had no idea how close Merle had been to doing just that. "Answer my question." Merle demanded gruffly. "Are you okay?"

Daryl pulled the shirt away from his face and nodded. His head had cleared and his headache was nowhere near as bad as it had been. "Yeah. Pressure's gone. I can think again. Bleedin' should stop in a bit."

Merle looked at Daryl suspiciously. "You sayin' this shit's happened before?"

Daryl closed his eyes and nodded.

Merle blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair. "Shit. Okay. Do you know where you are?" Merle asked.

"At your house in Woodbury." Daryl answered. "You brought me here after your buddies questioned me about where I got the guns and ammo in my truck."

Merle smiled. "Well what do you know, Mr. Forgetful remembers. A few minutes ago you started freakin' out because you didn't know where you were or how you'd gotten here. I take it you remember all of that shit now?"

Daryl nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I do. What the hell are you doin' here, Merle, with this bunch of assholes?"

"This 'bunch of assholes' saved my life. This town has been my home for the last several months. I have everything I need here. A roof over my head, food, a job, and respect."

Daryl dabbed at his nose with the now bright crimson t-shirt. "A job, huh?" he said. "So how much does bein' a 'master a' torture' pay these days?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask whoever caused all those new stitches an' scars you've got? 'Cause you don't have those on account of anyone here in Woodbury. The old gang get tired of havin' you around, baby brother? You get into a couple of fights with 'em? And what the hell just happened?"

Daryl didn't answer.

"We have a lot of catchin' up to do, Darleena. A _lot_ of catching up." Merle said. "and you need to see a doctor or somethin'. You were bleedin' outta your nose like Old Faithful a minute ago. Shit, you're _still_ bleedin'."

Daryl dabbed at the blood running in a thin stream from his nose. "Yeah, I got this thing called a subdural hemorrhage. Bleeding in my head. Pressure builds up and gives me awful headaches, messes with my thoughts, my memories, everythin'."

Merle looked at Daryl suspiciously. "Subdural hemorrhage? Don't those have to be fixed with an operation or somethin'?"

"Ain't an option anymore." Daryl replied.

"Well shit, son."

"Don't matter, pressure's gone for now and I can think straight again." Daryl said, trying to reassure Merle that things were going to be okay. "And who knows, might stop bleedin' on its own."

Merle tossed Daryl the boxer briefs and the jeans he'd brought into the room earlier for him. "Here, get dressed an' I'll go get you another shirt. We're gonna get outta here and then we'll talk about gettin' you fixed up," he said as he headed for the bedroom door. "I'm gonna go down to the warehouse and load a few things into my truck and then we'll leave."

"I ain't goin' nowhere without my crossbow, my pistols and my bike," Daryl called after him.

"Workin' on it, yer big brother's workin' on it.." Merle called back from the hallway.

Daryl smirked as stepped into the Levis jeans Merle had tossed him. He needed to get his stuff back and Merle was working on it. Of course he was.

* * *

It was a little after midnight when Maggie slowly opened the living room door and peeked out across the deck. When she was sure that no one was out there enjoying the starry night, she stepped outside onto the deck and quietly closed the door behind her. She walked to the edge of the dock and stopped and looked out over the moonlit lake. A soft breeze played with her hair and kicked up tiny waves on the lake's surface as the moon's light reflected a path across the water. The fireflies danced along the edges of the lake as the frogs and crickets continued their joint amphibian-insect concert collaboration. As Maggie listened to the frogs and crickets, she suddenly remembered overhearing Daryl explaining cricket songs to Carl one evening back at the farm a few days after he'd been injured looking for Sophia.

* * *

_It had been an extremely hot day and the evening was still quite warm. The crickets were chirping and the fireflies were moving about lazily as Maggie approached the campsite of the farm's visitors with two plastic gallon jugs she'd filled with cold sweet tea. The group had a campfire going strictly for cooking purposes and no one was sitting very close to it. Her refreshing gift was met with gratitude and smiles and Dale had gone into the RV and come out a few moments later holding a plastic sleeve with Solo cups in it. Maggie and Glenn had poured iced tea for everyone and Carl grabbed up two full cups and started to sprint away. _

_"Whoa young man!" Rick called to him. "Where are you heading with two of those cups?" _

_Carl came to an abrupt stop and turned to face his father. He was smiling and he held up the cups and said, "One's for me and one's for Daryl. Daryl said if I got him a cup of sweet tea he'd teach me about cricket songs."_

_Rick nodded. "Fair enough," he said and he watched his son run to where Daryl was sitting away from the other members of the group, cross-legged in the grass cleaning his crossbow. _

_Glenn told Maggie he'd be back in a few minutes and went to help Dale finish installing another new radiator hose in the Winnebago. _

_Maggie heard Carl laugh and she looked over to where Carl and Daryl were sitting. She sidled undetected over closer to where they sat and listened in on the conversation taking place._

_"Only male crickets make noise and it's a damn shame that humans weren't made the same way." Daryl was telling Carl. Carl giggled and Maggie smirked. She wouldn't have expected to hear any different from the asshole redneck. "Crickets got four different songs. The first one is fuckin' loud and it's a calling song. The men crickets is inviting the lady crickets to come on over and check 'em out. Lady crickets like the sound of it and other guy crickets think it sucks and tend to stay away. The next song is the courtin' song. It's real quiet and the guy cricket sings it when he knows there's a hot cricket chick nearby, sort a like he's whisperin' to her, tellin' her how smart and pretty and special she is and all that happy horseshit."_

_Carl giggled whenever Daryl cursed during his 'lesson'. _

_Carl's giggles turned into full blown laughter when Daryl said, "The third song is the 'fuck off and die you miserable motherfuckers' song tellin' the other males to piss off. Don't be laughin', this is some serious shit I'm tellin' you." _

_"I'm sorry." Carl said, wiping his eyes, "but just the way you said it was funny." _

_Daryl sighed and scratched his head. "I gotta learn to watch my mouth around you," he said before continuing with the cricket songs lesson. "The last song is the bragging song. Guy crickets sing that one after they've had relations with a lady cricket to let all the other crickets around know that they just got laid." _

_Carl snickered. "Now you're just messing with me." he said. _

_"No I ain't, honest to God. I'm totally serious. If the Greene's have got any encyclopedias you can look it up. Now, here's the coolest thing about cricket songs. If you're near the woods and you hear crickets chirpin', count how many times they chirp in fourteen seconds and then add forty. That will tell you what the temperature is. Tree crickets is best for that, field crickets ain't as exact, but are usually close enough. I ain't shittin' you on this neither. It's called Dolbear's Law and it's real scientific shit." _

_For the next few minutes Carl tested this theory and he was surprised that each time he was within a degree or two of 84 degrees. He got up to check his findings against the thermometer on the RV and Daryl grabbed him before he took off and slapped his solo cup into Carl's hand. "Get me a refill while you're up," he said. _

Maggie remembered how she had been both impressed and disgusted by Daryl Dixon that evening.

_Yes, she'd thought, he was pretty smart when it came to crickets, but he needed his mouth washed out with a bar of soap or two or three._

* * *

Maggie dropped the towel she had brought out to the deck with her and untied her bathrobe and let it slip from her shoulders and pool around her feet. She adjusted the straps on her swimsuit and then sat down on the edge of the dock and dipped her bare feet into the water. The water was cool and it felt good as it swirled around her ankles while she slowly dragged her feet back and forth. After a few minutes, she slid off the dock and into the dark, cool water.

She closed her eyes and leaned back, then kicked her feet under the water and swam on her back about thirty feet out from the dock. She looked at the house from where she floated in the water and she could see that there was still a light on in Rick and Lori's bedroom.

Why were they still up? Were they having a discussion? Arguing? Making love? Maggie made a face. Why on earth was she letting her mind stick it's nose into other people's business? It was none of her business what was going on with Rick and Lori.

Maggie had felt very bad for Rick when Lori had admitted she was in love with Shane and she was sure that their relationship was completely kaput after that, but things seemed to have turned around now and Maggie wondered if Rick being shot by Carol had given Lori a wake up call. Maybe Lori had seen the light and decided that she'd damned well better appreciate what she had because life was precious and fragile and it was too damned easy these days to lose someone you loved. Lori and Rick had a second chance, or rather, a third chance. They had already been granted their second chance when Rick had returned from Atlanta in Merle's place.

Merle. Maggie turned and swam back toward the dock. Merle Dixon was a piece of work and she didn't trust him at all. He had been in a real rush to get her and Glenn out of Woodbury and Maggie began to wonder why, exactly. She did appreciate the fact that he had given her Daryl's vest and his belt, though.

She had looked over Daryl's bloody vest and decided that she was going to clean it up and repair the holes in it. No, it wouldn't bring Daryl back, but she thought the gesture would please him, wherever he was now. She slowly tread water where she floated and considered the fate of Daryl's soul. Was he in heaven? Was he in hell? Maybe where Daryl was now was in Woodbury and maybe Merle was lying and Daryl was very much alive. She had begun to ponder that possibility earlier that night. Merle seemed like the type of guy who didn't like sharing and he had expressed his dislike for the group that had left him handcuffed to a roof in Atlanta. Would Merle lie to her and to Glenn about Daryl just so he didn't have to 'share' him with a bunch of people he couldn't stand? Maggie thought it was a definite possibility.

An owl called from the woods near the meadow and another one answered from across the lake. She had asked Daryl what kind of owl it was on a similar, starry night, but he had never answered her question. Her eyes teared up as she thought to herself, "Now I'll never know what kind of owl that is," and she giggled at her own silliness as tears started to run down her cheeks. "Stop it, Maggie. Stop it right now!" she whispered to herself.

She turned and swam out away from the dock and started to think about her situation. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Why the hell was she so damned upset? Daryl had left all of them, left _her_ of his own free will. He had stuck a few crappy flowers into a water filled booze bottle and left a heart shaped stone for her and then taken off for parts unknown. She had told him she loved him and it wasn't enough for him. He had left anyway and he had refused to take her with him. What a_ jerk_. Yes, that's what he was. A complete and total _jerk_. When she told him she was in love with him out in the meadow after she'd questioned him about the hole he'd dug, what had he said? Why, he'd said, "_That's all nice an' such but you're still not comin' with me_." Come to think of it, hadn't he actually rolled his eyes before he said that? Yes, yes he had! Oh.. oh, and then he'd told her that he didn't love her. Okay, to be fair he said he didn't love her because he didn't know how to. "What a crock of shit," Maggie muttered to herself.

Daryl had left and as Maggie swam back toward the dock, she realized that she had never resigned herself to the fact that he wouldn't be coming back. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she'd always thought he'd come back to her. He would realize that they belonged together and hightail it back to the lake house. Someday. Harboring that secret hope would help her get through not knowing where he was or what he was doing while he was away from her. He was smart, he was resourceful, he was tough and he would be back. Only now he wouldn't. Why, oh why did she let herself feel so deeply for a man who didn't give a rat's ass about her? Maggie pulled herself up onto the dock and wrapped her towel around her shoulders like a cloak. She dried off as well as she could and then tossed on her bathrobe and walked over to the slate top table. She flopped down in one of the chairs and leaned forward, burying her head in her hands as she rested her elbows on the table. She found herself wishing that she'd never gone to her house that day and that she'd never met Merle Dixon.

* * *

Rick stepped out onto the deck. He saw Maggie sitting at the patio table with her head in her hands and he wondered if he should approach her. He stood and quietly admired the star filled sky before deciding to see if Maggie wanted some company. His bare feet made no noise as he walked over to the table to join her. "Hey," he said from behind her as he gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

Rick yanked his hand away as Maggie gasped, leapt to her feet and turned to face her unexpected visitor. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn't seen Rick walk out onto the deck a few moments earlier. "Rick Grimes!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"I'm sorry. I thought you might have seen me when I came through the door." he explained in a whisper. "Do you want some company? He smiled at her and said, "Let me guess, you couldn't sleep and came out here to do some heavy-duty thinking under the stars. Am I right?"

Maggie sat back down and motioned to the chair next to her. "You are exactly right. Sit right down and tonight's meeting of the Insomniacs Club will come to order."

Rick smiled and pulled the chair out and sat down. They were both quiet for a minute, buried in their own thoughts and then Rick looked over at Maggie and said, "It was a rough day. I'm sorry."

Maggie sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't come out for the meeting, but I just couldn't..."

"Its okay," Rick interrupted. "We're all upset about what happened to Daryl but I know you and Daryl had gotten...close...and that you're really hurting, more so than the rest of us."

Maggie lowered her head. "You probably think I'm foolish to be so broken up over him, but you know what? I loved him, Rick. I really did. I know that sounds so superficial and awful; after all, Glenn and I were supposed to be in love, but I didn't plan for it to happen! I didn't mean to fall in love with Daryl."

Rick gave Maggie a small smile. "I know you didn't and I'm sure Glenn does, too. I will say that I'm glad that you two are still able to be friends."

"I am, too." Maggie said. "Although Andrea and Carol think I'm a total jerk." She sat back and looked up at the stars and Rick could see tears in her eyes in the moonlight. She looked at Rick and smiled sadly. "Daryl didn't love me, you know." she said. "He was totally up front about that. I was just out here trying to convince myself that I shouldn't be so torn up over him, after all, I wasn't really anything special to him."

Rick snorted. "Bullshit. He loved you, Maggie. It was obvious. He may not have said it, but he did."

Maggie wiped her eyes. "You think so?" she asked, hopefully. Not that it mattered anymore. Okay, yes, it did matter.

"I know so." Rick said with a smile.

Maggie bit her bottom lip and was quiet for a moment and then she said. "How do you know?"

Rick reached over and grasped Maggie's shoulder. He looked into her eyes and said, "When we heard you screaming in the meadow when the walkers were after you I saw something on Daryl's face I'd never seen before. Ever. Fear. He was afraid something awful had happened to you. I've also never seen a man haul ass so fast in my life as Daryl did to get to you. Then he dove into that hole to get to you without a second's hesitation. I'm convinced that he would have done anything in his power that day to protect you. He loved you, Maggie. Even a fool like me could see that."

Maggie nodded and let her tears fall. She remembered how frantic Daryl's voice had sounded when he had screamed her name that day as he ran towards where she was trapped in the hole in the meadow. Rick was right. Daryl _had_ loved her. _Of course he had_.

"Thank you," she said and she reached out to Rick and they embraced. " and you're not a fool," she whispered and she cried into his shoulder as they held each other. Rick stroked her hair and kept telling her how sorry he was and Maggie could have sworn that she felt her heart physically break.

"You're strong, Maggie," Rick whispered in her ear. "You'll get though this."

Maggie nodded into his shoulder as she wept. Did she have a choice?

"I need to go back to Woodbury." she said when she'd finally collected herself and they separated from each other.

"Absolutely not." Rick said firmly. "We need to stay as far away from there as possible."

"Then I'll go alone. I need to speak with Merle. I need to know what really happened to Daryl and I need to know where he had Daryl buried so I can say goodbye. I need to do this if I'm ever going to have any sort of closure," she told Rick. What a lie, she thought to herself. At this point she wasn't sure that closure would ever be possible.

"It's too dangerous." Rick hissed.

"Merle didn't hurt me or Glenn. I don't think he'd do anything to hurt me and he's sort of a big-wig in Woodbury so I'm sure I'll be fine."

Rick shook his head. "Maggie, what part of 'no' do you not understand?"

Maggie stood and placed her hands on her hips. "I'm going to Woodbury, Rick. What part of that do _you_ not understand?"

Rick sighed. "_I won't allow it._ End of discussion." he said.

Maggie glared at him and then turned and headed for the door without saying anything more.

* * *

Rick watched her go and then sat back in the chair and ran his hand through his hair. He knew that Maggie was stubborn so tomorrow he would enlist the help of her father to try to talk some sense into her.

He closed his eyes and listened to the crickets and the frogs as they continued their nightly performances and then he went back inside and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Rick slid underneath the sheet on his bed and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Being the leader of the group living in this house by the lake was a real challenge some times. On days like today he just wanted to turn in his resignation or stand up and scream at all of them, "_I quit_!"

Lori was asleep and the only sound in the room was her quiet breathing. Rick closed his eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Another action free chapter. I'll start making it up to you with the next chapter though. I promise! No jumping around in this chapter, so it might be a bit boring. Sorry in advance! = )**

Daryl was sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning against the headboard when Merle came into the room with a towel wrapped around an ice pack.

"Here, this will help take down some of the swelling on your face," Merle said as he handed the towel to Daryl. "Your nose stop bleedin'?"

"Yeah." Daryl said as he took the ice pack from Merle and placed it over his right eye. The coolness of the towel-wrapped ice pack felt good against his skin. "Thanks," he said. "You ready to go now?"

"That depends on a couple a things. You still dizzy? Your eyes were rollin' around in your head somethin' awful. Reminded me of those cheap fuzzy pom-pom ball creature things with them googly eyeballs that spin around."

"No, I'm not dizzy, just tired." Daryl yawned as if to emphasize what he'd just said.

Merle noticed that Daryl's face and neck were flushed and he reached out and put his hand on Daryl's forehead.

Daryl had closed both his eyes and had not expected the touch. He startled and jerked away from Merle's hand.

"I ain't gonna hurt you," Merle said. Damn, he hated it when Daryl flinched like that when he touched him. "Now hold still." He placed his hand on Daryl's forehead again and after a few seconds he pulled it away. "You've got a fever. You sick or somethin'?"

"Been takin' antibiotics to keep from gettin' an infection where I cut off my finger. I ain't been good at takin' them like I'm supposed to. It's swollen up and feels like it's hot, so that could be it."

"You cut your own finger off?" Merle asked as he sat down on the bed.

Daryl opened his left eye and looked at Merle and nodded. "Yeah."

"When? Why?" Merle demanded.

"'Bout a week ago. Got bit." Daryl saw Merle's eyes get big and he quickly added. "Just part of it got bit off, I cut the rest off right afterward. Doc seems to think I got it in time. I ain't infected, if that's what you're thinkin'. Doc said fever from bein' bitten is a lot worse and the bite wounds get all black and rotten and smell something awful. "

Merle curled his lip at the disgusting visual Daryl had just given him before he asked, "There was a doctor with your group?"

"Yeah, well, sorta. Veterinarian."

"An animal doc?"

"Yeah, but he done right by me." Daryl pointed to where Hershel had stitched his abdominal wound. "Had to open me up a couple times and fix stuff that was messed up inside me." His thoughts suddenly turned to Maggie and how she'd been there each time helping her father when he'd worked on him. "I'd be dead if it weren't for him." he told Merle.

"Open you up? Like an operation type a thing?" Merle asked. He'd seen the bloody stitches and had wondered just what had happened.

"Yeah, just like that." Daryl answered.

"That's some crazy shit. Huh. Weren't no vet with the group when I was there." Merle said.

Daryl was about to respond but Merle interrupted him. "Those antibiotics you were takin', were they in your truck?"

"Yeah, but theres a couple bottles of pills were in the glove compartment that's more important than antibiotics. I really need 'em."

Merle knew this was serious, but he couldn't help himself. "Viagra ain't a necessity these days, son."

"They're for my head," Daryl shot back.

Merle smirked and raised his eyebrows.

Daryl sighed. "The one that sits atop my neck. Cripes, you never stop, do ya?"

"Yeah, well I missed teasing you while we were apart and you know you missed my teasing."

"Did not." Daryl mumbled. Maggie had more than bested Merle when it came to teasing. She was the All-Time Tease Queen in his opinion.

"Okay, first I'm gonna bring you a couple Aleeve pills to help bring that fever of yours down and then I'm goin' to go to the warehouse to load up the truck and I'll fetch your drugs while I'm there."

"Thought I was goin' with you." Daryl said.

"Changed my mind. Best you stay put and keep that cold pack on your ugly face. I'll pack the truck and then come get you. What's the name of the drugs in case they've already been put in the pharmacy room?"

"Shit, see if I can remember…. one is a corticosteroid and the name is even something like that...and the other one is Fen somethin' or other."

Merle left the room and came back a short time later and tossed a bottle of Aleeve to Daryl. "Take a couple a these and try to get some rest until I get back," he told his little brother. "Everything's gonna be okay."

Merle drove down the alley to the warehouse and was surprised to see the Harley Fat Boy parked next to the stairs at the employees entrance. He parked next to it and pulled the keys out of the truck's ignition. What the hell was Martinez doing at the warehouse? It was after curfew. Of course, the governor's men weren't bound by the curfew as long as they let the governor know they'd be out and about after it and told him where they'd be and what they'd be doing. Merle walked up the steps and tried the door. It was locked and he fumbled with his keys and until he found the key to the door. He unlocked the door and let himself inside.

The hall light was on and Merle could hear strains of Los Lobos' "When the Circus Comes to Town" coming from further down the hall. Merle walked down the hall and turned the corner. The music got progressively louder as he approached the door leading to the large open bay area where the vehicles that were captured outside of Woodbury were brought in and unloaded. Merle swung the door open and smiled. Martinez was dancing around in the bay next to Daryl's truck, holding a bottle of Monte Alban Mezcal. Merle watched for a moment with amusement as the man put the bottle to his lips and tilted it up, chugging down a mouthful of the stuff as he wiggled his hips and danced in a circle to the music.

"So why wasn't I invited to this little party?" Merle shouted over the music.

Martinez spun around wide-eyed as he fumbled for the gun at his side. He flushed with embarrassment when he saw Merle standing in the doorway and trotted over to the boom-box that was blaring the music and turned it off. "Shit, Merle, what…what are you doing here?" he asked as he took another swig from his bottle.

Merle chuckled. "I might ask you the same." Merle walked down the stairs and sat on the bottom step. "I'm glad you're here," he said. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

Martinez bit his lower lip. "Shit, am I in some sort of trouble? You're not going to rat me out about bein' in here drinkin' are you? I mean, I know it's after curfew but we can be out after if we, if you…"

Merle put his finger to his lips. "Shhhh shhh…" he shushed. "You're good. It's all good. I ain't lookin' to cause trouble for nobody and I'm hopin' you won't give me no trouble when I tell you what I got to tell you and ask you what I got to ask you."

Martinez raised an eyebrow and grinned. "What the hell you talkin' about Merle?" he said as he approached Merle.

Merle smiled. Martinez was weaving as he approached him and Merle noticed that the man's eyes were bloodshot and his nose was bright red. Martinez wasn't fall down drunk, but he wasn't completely sober, either.

"Come sit down and I'll explain." Merle said and he pointed to a wooden crate next to the stairs where he was seated.

"Oooookay." Martinez stretched out the word as he replied and went to sit down on the crate. His aim was off and he missed it completely. He howled as his butt collided with the hard cement floor and then he burst into laughter. "Look! Look!" he laughed as he held up the Mezcal. "I didn't even drop the bottle!" He winced and reached down and rubbed his backside. "I think I broke my ass, though. Aww, dammit, I did." He grinned and said, "I can tell 'cause it's got a crack in it," and then he burst into laughter.

Merle smiled as he stood and offered his hand to Martinez. "That was a good one. You're a funny guy, Martinez, now let's try that sitting down thing again," he said as he hauled the partially intoxicated man to his feet.

Martinez slowly lowered himself onto the crate and smiled when he successfully parked his rear end in the center of it. "There, that's better. Thanks, Merle. " Martinez said as he took another swig off the bottle. He pulled it away from his mouth and held it out to Merle. "Want some?" he said. "This is…really good stuff. This is stuff _real_ men drink. It'll put hair on your chest."

Merle looked at the bottle suspiciously. "Better keep it away from the women then and thanks, but I got enough hair on my chest. Ain't that the rotgut shit that's got a worm in the bottom of the bottle?"

Martinez grinned and gently swirled the bottle of Mezcal around in a circle. "It sure is. The worm's the best part. Sort of like the prize in a box of Cracker Jacks."

Martinez put the bottle to his lips and tilted it upside down, but didn't let any of the alcohol enter his mouth. Merle watched as the fat, pale yellow, grub-like caterpillar that had been resting at the bottom of the bottle drifted down toward where Martinez held the tip of the bottle between his lips. When it stopped at right above his mouth, Martinez sucked it into his mouth with a mouthful of Mezcal. He swallowed the Mezcal while holding the worm aside with his tongue. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Merle and then bit into the worm with gusto. "Mmmm…" he said. "Chewy."

Merle laughed.

"So," Martinez said, "What did you want to talk about."

"Just so I don't waste your time or mine, are you sober enough so that you'll remember this conversation tomorrow?" Merle asked.

"Sure am," Martinez responded without hesitation.

Merle chuckled and nodded. "That's good," he said. "Real good. Now first of all I owe you a bit of an apology on account that I wasn't totally honest with you earlier today."

Martinez leaned forward. He was intrigued. "Really? About what?"

"I'm getting' to that." Merle said. "But I want you to understand that the only reason I held off tellin' you what I'm going to tell you now is that I had to tell the governor first and I did that as soon as I got back from runnin' those kids back to where I found 'em. When we spoke I was on my way to see him. I told the governor what I needed to and he gave me the okay to do a few things that I need to do. You understand what I'm sayin' so far?"

Martinez nodded, his face suddenly very serious. "What was it you couldn't tell me?" he said and Merle had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the sad puppy dog eyes Martinez was giving him now. "We're like friends, right Merle?"

"Best of," Merle lied, "which is why I'm here now talkin' to you. You're the first one I wanted to talk to after I'd spoken with the governor. You understand that I had to talk to him first, though, right? 'Cause I don't want no hard feelings between us." Good Lord, I'm piling the bullshit high, Merle thought and he couldn't help but grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Martinez said.

"Okay," Merle said and he paused and leaned in to Martinez and then looked around like he was making sure that no one else was secretly lurking around listening in on their conversation.

Martinez looked around uneasily, searching for hidden eavesdroppers or spies as well.

"That prisoner that was brought in today, the one with all the stuff in the truck?" Merle said in a hushed tone.

"The guy with the weapons? The one Morey killed?" Martinez asked in a near whisper.

"Yeah. That guy. He was my brother." Merle said and he leaned back where he sat on the steps.

Martinez sucked in a breath and his eyes got wide. "No fucking _way_!" he shouted, the appearance of secrecy entirely forgotten. "Your _brother_? The one you've wanted to go look for?! What was his name…Darwood?"

Merle shot Martinez a dirty look. "Daryl. His name was Daryl."

"Fucking hell! How did that happen? Why wouldn't he tell us he was your brother? Didn't he…, shit no. You weren't here when he was brought in! He didn't know….and you didn't know.. and…shit!"

"I didn't say anything right away because I had to take care of things, I had to do right by him, you know? It fuckin' blew my mind when I walked into room three and saw him there. Almost lost my shit. I did what I had to do for him and then I had to get out of town for a bit to cool off, otherwise I was going to find Morey and kill the bastard. That's why I took those kids back to where I found 'em. I needed to get away and I needed a distraction."

Martinez bit his bottom lip and shook his head. "Damn, Merle. Just…damn. I know how it feels to lose your family. Man, I'm so sorry." He scratched his head and then his eyes got wide again. "The Harley! The girl in the truck with you said the bike belonged to Darwood, didn't she!?"

Merle narrowed his eyes. "Daryl," he growled. "and yes, she did. Now the governor said I should get out of town for a few days, take some time to mourn my brother in private. He said I could come down here and look through the stuff that came out of the truck for any of Daryl's personal belongings. He said I could keep the stuff I wanted that had been his. Within reason, of course."

Martinez sighed. "I suppose you're going to want his bike," he said sadly.

Merle nodded. "Yup. Bike meant a lot to him. The governor told me to take it, that he hadn't actually said you could have it."

Martinez scowled. "But Merle, I already love the thing and it isn't like you can ride it with one hand and all. If Darwood was still alive.."

"Daryl!" Merle yelled.

"If Daryl was still alive," Martinez continued without missing a beat, "and if he was here I'm sure we would have become really good friends and he'd be glad I had his Harley and I'll take really good care of it and always wash it after I ride it and.."

"Caesar," Merle said in a calm voice, "I'm taking my brother's motorcycle. Now when I get back, the two of us will head out to the Harley dealership in Macon or the one in Newnan and get you whatever Harley your little heart desires. Hell, we can pick up whatever accessories you want to, huh? What do you say, would you like that?"

Martinez had stopped scowling and was now frowning and Merle wanted to slap his face. Here was a grown man pouting like a spoiled child! As if on cue, Martinez started to whine. "But I don't want a different bike! I want your brother's."

Merle sighed and resisted the urge to tell Martinez that he wasn't fuckin' getting' it. "You said you knew what its like to lose your family." Merle said, "So how can you ask me to give you something that my brother loved? Shit, it would be like me walking up to you right after you lost your wife and kids and asking for your wife's weddin' ring and your kid's favorite stuffed animal. Would you let me have either of those things? 'Course you wouldn't and I wouldn't expect you to."

Martinez's blushed with embarrassment and bowed his head in shame.

Merle rolled his eyes. Fuckin' pussy. "Tell you what," he said. "You're right. I can't ride that bike and I probably won't even want it around when I'm done working through this grief thing, but I need to have it for a little while. When I come back, it's yours."

Martinez looked up at Merle and his eyes lit up. A smile spread across his face.

"But," Merle continued, "that's only if you'll help me load it onto my truck so I can take it with me when I leave tomorrow."

"How long you gonna be gone?" Martinez asked.

"Couple, three days. Just need time alone and I'm guessin' governor wants me away from Morey."

"Does Morey know the guy he killed was your brother? He talked to me earlier and he's already worried about how mad you were when he told you about kickin' the guy in the head." Martinez paused for a second and then said, "Wow, Morey'll shit his pants when he finds out he killed your brother!"

"I'll deal with Morey when I get back." Merle snapped. "Now do you think you're sober enough to come on outside and help me put my brother's bike in the back of my truck?"

Martinez sighed. "Yeah, alright," he said.

The bike weighed close to eight hundred pounds and after about ten minutes of grunting and groaning the two men were able to push the thing up the ramp they'd placed against the truck's lowered tailgate and roll it forward in the truck bed. Merle couldn't tie things worth shit since he'd lost his right hand, so he barked out instructions to Martinez and Martinez secured the motorcycle with bungee cords and rope. At Merle's request he tried to move the bike back and forth and then from side to side. It wouldn't budge.

Merle helped Martinez off the truck and clapped him on the shoulder "Great job tying her down," he said. "Thanks, Caesar. I really appreciate the help."

"Yeah. Damn, Merle. I'm really sorry about your brother." Martinez said again. "And I'd really be honored to have his bike when you're done with it," he added.

Merle grinned his shark like grin had to resist the urge to say 'don't hold your fuckin' breath'.

Martinez decided it was time to head back to his apartment, he'd refused a house of his own as it would be a painful reminder of the family he had lost, and he told Merle goodbye and wished him the best of luck on his little trip out of town.

As soon as Martinez had left, Merle drove his truck into the warehouse bay and closed the overhead door. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the inventory paper listing what had been found in Daryl's truck and studied the list.

Merle unlocked and raided the room where the weapons that had been removed from Daryl's truck were stored. He packed up the boxes of grenades and carefully placed the assault rifles in the back seat of his truck. He smiled when he found the Ruger Blackhawks secured in their double holster belt. He removed each one carefully with his single hand and looked them both over. They were lovely pistols with polished wood grips and Merle was impressed with their weight and how well balanced they were. "Nice guns, Clint," he said as he returned them to their holsters. "You did good, baby brother, you did good."

The gasoline in the gas cans that were taken from Daryl's truck had been poured into a five hundred gallon fuel tank in the warehouse and Merle wasted no time refilling Daryl's five gallon cans and securing them in the truck bed. Merle smiled as he lifted the heavy box of Chef Boyardee pasta into the truck. Daryl had always loved that shit. Merle couldn't understand why. It all tasted the same to him. Bland and disgusting. The Pop Tarts were another matter all together. Merle love Pop Tarts.

Merle found the drugs Daryl had told him about and the antibiotics on a shelf outside the pharmacy room. They hadn't been processed into the pharmacy inventory yet and Merle was pleased that he wouldn't have to spend any time combing the pharmacy room shelves for them.

Merle grinned as he threw the down pillows into the truck. Had his little brother gone soft or what? "Pussy, wussy," he chuckled.

The last thing that Merle packed into the truck was the guitar. He hesitated. Did they really need it? Merle closed his eyes. His Momma had played the guitar and some of his happiest childhood memories were of her playing and singing gospel and folk songs. She had a beautiful voice and she played the guitar very, very well. Daryl seemed to have inherited her gift and Merle had enjoyed hearing Daryl play once the boy had been playing long enough so that he knew what he was doing. Merle opened his eyes and carefully slid the guitar case into the back seat among the assault rifles, the grenades and the ammo. Yes, he decided, they really did need it.

It took Merle almost two hours to load the truck and he was tired when he finally backed the truck out of the warehouse bay. He lowered the heavy overhead door and then jogged up to the employee entrance and locked that door as well. It was just after one in the morning when he pulled up in front of his house. He shut the truck off and sighed. The moon was bright and his house cast a moonlit shadow on the well manicured front lawn. He had trimmed the shrubs and mowed the lawn religiously. He loved his little house, the first one he could call his very own. He had taken pride in it and he had felt comfortable and safe here. He had felt like he was _home_. His tomatoes in his garden behind the house were ripening and the potatoes would be ready in a couple of weeks. Merle sighed. He wouldn't be here to enjoy them. It was going to be hard to leave this little house behind. It was going to be hard to leave Woodbury behind. He was _somebody_ here. For a second he considered sending Daryl out on the road on his own while he stayed back. Daryl could go to Maine or go back to his little girlfriend and live his own life and Merle would live his. They'd both live their lives, just separately.

No, he couldn't do that. Blood was blood. Maybe he could find a little white house in Maine or wherever the hell it was Daryl wanted them to go. Daryl was all he had left for family and he'd damn near lost him, thanks to the people in this town who were supposed to be his friends. He'd always known that the governor was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but Merle had been able to overlook that. The cigarette burns on the back of his little brother's neck and the beating Daryl had taken at the hands of the governor and the requisition crew had been the last straw for Merle. He turned the key in the truck's ignition and took one last look at his pretty little house in the moonlight before he pulled into his driveway and into the garage. It was time to get Daryl and get out of Dodge.


	17. Chapter 17

Daryl sat in the passenger seat with his arms crossed. "I ain't leavin' without it." he said to Merle.

Merle thumped his left fist on the steering wheel. "We'll find you another one. It ain't the only one in the whole fuckin' world." He was regretting telling Daryl that the crossbow hadn't been among the weapons in the warehouse.

"I don't want another one. I want mine." Daryl said crossly.

"Dammit, it's a fuckin' pussy kid's starter crossbow. Don't you think it's about time you moved up to one that was made for grownups?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes and glared at his older brother.

"Hate to break it to you, Darleena, but you ain't been a kid for a long, long time." Merle said. "So put on your big boy pants and forget that wimpy little toy crossbow. We'll get you a real one."

Daryl shoved Merle's right shoulder. "Screw you _asshole_. You know I've had that forever and I ain't gonna sit here and justify my choice a weapons to you!" He pointed an accusing finger at Merle and lit into him again. "We fucked around for an hour pickin' your stupid ass tomatoes and packin' up your booze and shit, and you won't take five minutes to pick up my crossbow?"

Merle pounded the steering wheel again with his fist. "Dammit, I ain't even sure where it's at! I'll come back and find it tomorrow!" He knew exactly where it was, but he wasn't going to go banging on Haley Peterson's door at this hour and demand that she hand over Daryl's stupid crossbow.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Daryl groaned. "You are so full of shit! You can't come back here after we've left and we both know that!" He motioned to the weapons and ammo boxes piled up behind the seat. "You think all this shit comin' up missin' won't be noticed? You're even _dumber_ than I thought! How fuckin' stupid can you..." That was as far as he got before Merle's left fist connected with his chin, throwing his head back against the seat's headrest. Daryl threw his hands up in front of his face to protect it from any follow up blows Merle was prepared to deliver. "_Son of a bitch_, Merle!"

"_Goddam it_! " Merle bellowed. "_You_ made me do that! You _know better_ than to call me 'dumb' or 'stupid', you miserable little _pissant!_"

Daryl threw open the passenger door and stepped out of the truck. It was still parked in Merle's garage, packed and ready to go. "Leave without me then," he said and he slammed the door as hard as he could. He hobbled over to the door that lead into the kitchen and he heard the driver's side door of the truck open as Merle came after him.

"You get your ass back in that truck _right now_!" Merle barked and Daryl heard his quick boot steps on the cement floor as he came up behind him.

Daryl turned to face Merle and Merle grabbed him by the shirt just below his neck and pulled Daryl in so that their faces were nose to nose and nearly touching. "If anyone was gonna stay, it would be _me_. Now I ain't in the mood for this bullshit, son, and we don't have time for it." Merle snarled. "Now you are gonna get back into that truck and you're gonna do it _now_!" He shoved Daryl away from him and glared at his younger brother. "Whether you want to do it under your own power or not is up to you." Merle pointed at the truck. "So what will it be, little brother? Do you walk back over and get in or do I drag you over and _throw_ you in?"

Daryl grumbled as he pushed past Merle and limped back over to the truck. He opened the door and got back into the vehicle without a word, then slammed the door. He folded his arms across his chest and stared straight ahead.

Merle got in on the driver's side again. He grinned and started the truck. "Now get down and cover up with that sheet on the floor there. I don't know who's on gate duty tonight and I don't want no problems while we're leavin'."

Daryl pulled the sheet off the floor and slid off the seat. He crouched down on the truck's floor in front of the seat and pulled the sheet up over him and spread part of it out across the truck's seat.

Merle reached over and pulled it up over Daryl's head and then reached behind the seats and grabbed two of the down pillows. He threw them over Daryl and then grabbed a tent roll and a zipped canvas bag with tent stakes in it and pulled them into the front seat, partially covering Daryl. "That's better," he said. "You look like a pile of camping gear."

Daryl still didn't say anything and Merle smirked. Daryl was trying to punish Merle by giving him the 'silent treatment'. Merle hated being ignored and Daryl knew it.

Merle thought he had cured Daryl of giving him the 'silent treatment' the last time Daryl had attempted it. It had been three years ago and Merle remembered it like it was yesterday.

_Daryl hadn't spoken a word to Merle for three days after a particularly intense disagreement and by the end of the third day of his comments and questions to Daryl being ignored and going unanswered, he'd had it. He decided he'd fight fire with fire and he stopped speaking to Daryl and started to act like Daryl didn't exist. Merle soon discovered that Daryl didn't care if Merle talked to him or not so Merle had to change his tactics. _

_Merle won the contest the following morning when he slid into the bathroom while Daryl was showering and did his business. He'd eaten plate after plate of refried beans, enchiladas, burritos and four alarm chili at a biker party at Miguel's Mexican restaurant and had gotten trashed on tequila and vodka the night before. Even Merle had to admit that the products of his drunken night partying with the boys were impressive in their own disgusting way. The resulting noises were quite nasty and the stench could probably peel the paint off the walls. Daryl had started to chuff and make gagging noises from behind the shower curtain in reaction to Merle's malodorous gift and then Merle had finished Daryl off by flushing the toilet and then turning the bathroom sink's cold water faucet on full blast. _

_Because the plumbing in their older home did not have a pressure balance valve for the shower, the cold water was completely diverted and Daryl started to yell and cuss as he was hit with scalding hot water. "Dammit all to hell, Merle! Cocksucking bastard!" _

_"Yeah, I love you, too, baby brother. Love you, too." Merle chuckled. _

_"You trying to boil me alive?! And use the fuckin' bathroom spray! It smells like somethin' crawled up inside of you and died a month ago. Hell, decomp smells better n' this!"_

_Merle laughed. "You like that? I call it 'eu de Burrito diarrheao'."_

_Daryl jumped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. The heavy cloud of steam in the bathroom seemed to intensify the awful smell and Daryl fanned his hand in front of his face. "How can you stand it?" he griped to Merle as he wrapped the towel around his waist. He turned to leave and Merle stepped in front of the bathroom door, blocking his exit._

_"Get outta my way!" Daryl demanded._

_"In a minute." Merle replied. "I ain't lettin' you leave until you say you're done with this foolishness of not talkin' to me."_

_"I'm talkin' to you right now." Daryl said, trying to move around Merle. _

_Merle grabbed Daryl by the shoulder. "I mean it. You ain't gonna stop talkin' to me again once you step outta here. You got that? That shit stops. Now."_

_Daryl had no idea it had bothered Merle so much to be ignored by him and it secretly pleased him. "And what if I say I won't stop?"_

_Merle smiled his sinister Merle smile. "Why then, I'll just stick your head in the toilet right now and flush it a couple of times. Let you get a real good whiff of what was in there." _

_"Okay, okay! Fine!" Daryl shouted, "No more silent treatment! Now move so I can get the hell outta here!" _

_Merle had moved and smiled with amusement as Daryl dashed by him and out of the bathroom._

Merle pulled part of the sheet covering Daryl up and tented it over his lap. He lifted his right butt cheek and loudly broke wind. Then he grinned and said, "Just warmin' things up for you under there, little brother."

Daryl didn't reply and Merle honked off another one. He bent down, leaning toward where he figured Daryl's head was hidden. "Plenty more where that came from," he said.

"Kill me now." Daryl groaned from under the sheet.

Merle laughed and rolled down the windows.

It was after three in the morning when Merle pulled up to the gate to leave Woodbury. He was surprised to see Haley Peterson step towards his truck. He was even more surprised to see that she was holding Daryl's crossbow.

"Good morning, Merle," Haley said as she peeked into his vehicle. "You're heading out early. Going camping?"

Merle kept the truck running and put it in park. He put on a hangdog expression and kept his eyes straight ahead. "Gov'ner thought I should take a couple days off. I need to be by myself for a bit."

Haley noticed something different about Merle's demeanor. Merle was well known and well liked in town and he could be funny, loud, obnoxious, overbearing and intimidating but she had never seen him look quite like this like …she couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something different about Merle and it piqued her curiosity.

Merle turned and looked at her. Haley had never noticed how blue and how expressive Merle Dixon's eyes were. At first she couldn't place the look in the man's eyes, then she realized it was because she'd never seen cocky, self-assured Merle Dixon look sad about anything before. What the hell would make Merle Dixon sad? If the man that had been brought in was his brother, he should be happy, right? Unless…

"Are you okay? " She immediately felt like she'd overstepped her place with him. "I'm sorry, I mean…I've just never seen you look…sad before." She bit her lower lip and took a step back, waiting for him to berate her for her nosey comments.

"Thanks for your concern, darlin', Lord knows I don't like feelin' this way." he said, "I'll tell you the short version of what happened, seeing as you're gonna be hearin' it later today along with anyone else who wants to know. "

Haley stepped in closer to the truck again.

"Guy got brought in from Fort Benning yesterday while I was out lookin' for supplies. He had a lot of weapons and ammo, food and fuel. You've been out on those acquisition runs before, haven't you?"

"Yes." Haley said. "And I won't ever go again."

Merle sighed and nodded. "So you know what happens when someone brought in doesn't feel like cooperatin'."

"Yes." Haley said softly. She suspected what was coming next.

"The guy they brought in and killed was my brother."

Haley wasn't surprised. She'd suspected that the unfortunate man traveling with the Horton crossbow had been Merle Dixon's brother when she'd learned from Maggie and Glenn that it was his weapon of choice and he'd gone to Fort Benning in search of Merle. "I'm so sorry!" Haley said and she meant it.

"That's his crossbow you're holdin', aint it?" he asked.

Haley looked down at the weapon in her hands and then looked at Merle. "Yes, it is. Here, take it," she said and the thrust it out towards him. "You should have it. I can tell he really loved it. It's an older model but he kept it clean and perfectly maintained. Even in the midst of all the dead folks walking around, he still took excellent care of it."

"Because it took care of him." Merle answered. "A weapon that ain't properly maintained ain't reliable. No one can afford to have an unreliable weapon these days." Merle looked the crossbow over as he held the stock in his left hand. He moved his gaze from the crossbow back to Haley. "You sure you don't want it?" he asked. "What will you use if I take it?"

Haley smiled. "I have my compound bow here, too. I just thought I might try this one out. I'm really sorry about Daryl. Maggie and Glenn both mentioned him and I think Maggie suspected the bow was his when we were talking about it."

Shit, thought Merle. He could actually sense Daryl straining his ears to hear what was being said once Haley had mentioned Glenn and Maggie.

Haley continued to talk. "Glenn told me that Maggie was in love with Daryl. Did you tell her..?"

"I don't know nothin' about that." Merle said, cutting her off. "And thanks for the bow."

Haley motioned to the man standing against the gate and he moved to open it. She turned back to Merle. "I'd love to see Glenn again and maybe get to know him better. If you're ever headed out to where he is or if he ever wants to come and visit."

Merle smiled. "Sure, darlin', I'd be happy to take you out to see him one of these days."

"Thank you and again, I'm very sorry about your loss. I know how it feels to lose your family, but at the hands of people you know,"

"Which is why I need to get away for a few days. Otherwise, we'll be burying Paul Morey and I'll be in a shit load of trouble for kill in' him."

The gate was open and Merle drove through and out onto the dark roadway. He looked in the rearview mirror as the gates closed and he could see Haley where she had climbed up on top of the barricade. She was waving.

Daryl exploded out from under the sheet on the floor, sending the tent roll and the canvas bag tumbling onto the floor and pillows flying. He sat back on the seat and rolled the sheet up into ball and tossed it on the floor before snatching his crossbow from where it sat on the seat next to Merle.

Merle glanced over at his brother as Daryl slid back in the seat and started to examine his crossbow. "Okay," Daryl said, " First of all, 'are you sure you don't want it?' You almost gave my fuckin' crossbow away! What the hell kind of bullshit was that? What if she'd said 'okay, I'll keep it?'?"

"Oh shut up, I knew she wasn't gonna want to keep it."

"And what did she say about Maggie and Glenn bein' in Woodbury? When were they there? Where are they now? You didn't' hurt them, did you? I swear to God, if any of those bastards lays a hand on her, or if you hurt her, I'll..."

"Now, now," Merle said with a smile. "Cool your jets." The smile got bigger. "Tiger."

**Short chapter but I'll update again tomorrow. I made a mess of Exile trying to correct some mistakes and I need to fix it, too. Just call me Destructor.**


	18. Chapter 18

Daryl bit his bottom lip. Merle knew the nickname Maggie had given him. What else did he know? He decided he didn't give a shit. "When were they there and where are they now?" he asked.

"Funny thing, the timing in all this." Merle said. "I found a couple a milking goats wanderin' around at a deserted farm and brought 'em back to Woodbury. Went back the next day to see if I could grab another one and some chickens I'd seen runnin' around. I was in the barn when the chink and your girlfriend pulled up in a truck. I didn't hurt your girl when I caught her in the barn."

"She ain't my girl." Daryl snapped.

"If you say so." Merle said and he grinned at Daryl. "Anyway, whatshisname there, the chink, he came into the barn and I got the jump on him, too. I recognized him and he recognized me and I asked him about you first thing. He said you'd left the group to come lookin' for me. It was clear that they wasn't stayin' at that farm no more, so I decided to take them for a little ride to Woodbury."

"Why?" Daryl demanded.

"'Cause I wanted to find out where they were holed up!" Merle exclaimed.

"And what if they wouldn't tell you?" Daryl asked.

Merle smirked. "Oh, if I'd really wanted to know, they'd a told me. Eventually."

"Right." Daryl said and he gave Merle a look of disgust. "Your boss don't call you 'the torture master' for nothin'. Ain't that right?"

Merle slammed on the brakes and turned to look at Daryl. "Now you listen and you listen good! I was left handcuffed to a pipe on a fuckin' roof in Atlanta on a hundred degree day! I owe a certain law officer some fuckin' payback! I wanted to know where the hell he was and I was damned well gonna do whatever it took to find out!"

"We came back for you! You think I'd a left you there? We fuckin' came back and you were gone!" Daryl yelled. "Now where are Maggie and Glenn?!"

"How the hell long do you think I would have lasted on that roof in that heat with no water? Bakin' in the sun like road kill? I'd probably been dead before you even got there!"

"Bullshit. We got there before noon. We woulda cut the cuffs and you'd be livin' life right now with two hands instead a one. Rick's a good guy and he's got a family. You best be leavin' them all well enough alone."

"Or what? You gonna kick my ass? Protect Officer Friendly from big, bad Merle? You really are his bitch now, ain't ya!?"

"I ain't nobody's bitch." Daryl growled. "I came lookin' for you, didn't I? Left 'em all behind so I could look for you, Merle." Daryl looked out the window and continued, "You're my family. All I got and I needed to find you." He looked back over at Merle and said, "There's a place in Maine we should try to get to. It's a house out away from everything. Sits near the ocean and is set up with solar power and enough weapons, ammo and food to last a long time. I was gonna go there alone if I couldn't find you."

Merle was intrigued. "How do you know about this place in Maine? You get a brochure in the mail or somethin'?" he asked.

"Got tangled up with some soldiers from some special unit that was s'posed to be able to deal with shit like what's gone down and got some files and info from 'em. There's at least one house like that set up in each state. Lots of 'em got overrun before or after the military tried to get to 'em. I got maps and stuff that I left in a house in Midland. Spent the night there before I headed to Fort Benning and figured it'd be best to leave 'em there, just in case..."

"In case what?" Merle asked. "In case you got caught?"

"Yeah."

Merle absorbed this information and after a moment he glanced over at Daryl. "Those maps show where the group is hidin' out, don't they?" Merle asked.

Daryl didn't answer and Merle chuckled. "'Course they do. Your group is set up in one a them houses somewhere 'round here, ain't they? Shit! That's where you got all these fuckin' weapons! The ammo, the grenades, the fuel! Hell, you guys were sittin' pretty! I'll bet the governor would love to get his hands on a place like that."

"Well he ain't gonna." Daryl snapped. He shuddered thinking of Maggie being subjected to the abuse he had faced in the interrogation room. No way in hell would he allow that to happen. If Maggie was still in Woodbury then he would make Merle turn the damned truck around and head right back there. "Now fuckin' answer my question! Where are Maggie and Glenn at?"

"Don't worry, baby brother. Your fair lady and her slant eyed escort were dropped off right where I found 'em at that farmhouse and no worse for wear. I ran 'em out there while you were sleepin'. Didn't need to know where they were stayin' no more 'cause I'd found you."

"Good. Glad to hear it." Daryl said. The relief he felt knowing that Maggie and Glenn were more than likely safe back at the lake house helped to calm him down. Now if only he knew just what Maggie and Glenn had said to Merle. How much did Merle know about where they were staying and what exactly had Merle been told about his relationship with the group and particularly with Maggie?

Merle smiled to himself. He could almost hear the wheels grinding in Daryl's head. Daryl was probably wondering just how much he knew about his relationship with the spitfire and Merle was going to have some fun with that. "So you left the group and your purty little girlfriend to come lookin' for me." Merle put his hand over his heart for a second and smirked. "I'm touched."

"Shut up," Daryl muttered.

"Shut up? Hell, I'm just gettin' warmed up here! So, little brother, tell me 'bout your girlfriend. How the hell did a fine lookin' sweet assed gal like that end up fallin' for your lame worthless self and what's up with the Tiger nickname? You don't look like no jiggaboo golfer to me."

"I told you, she ain't my girlfriend," Daryl said. "Her dad is the veterinarian that fixed me up."

Merle laughed and said, "Seriously? What did ol' Dr. Daddycakes think of his precious daughter fallin' for the likes a you? I'll jest bet he was tickled pink. Shit, son, I'm surprised that you didn't wake up from one a them surgeries and find your balls missin'."

"Just stop with the bullshit and drive," Daryl said defensively. "It would be nice to get to Midland and get them maps before daybreak."

The truck started moving again. "Aw, come on! You're finally, after all these years, gettin' some lovin from a fine assed woman and you won't share any details with your big brother? That ain't very nice." Merle teased.

"She's Glenn's girlfriend." Daryl said, hoping that this would shut Merle up.

Merle chuckled. "You are such a liar, baby brother! Less than twenty four hours ago, that girl sat right where you're sittin' now and boo hoo'd to me about you."

Daryl raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"I know! I was surprised, too! She was askin' all sorts a questions about you..where we were keepin' you, what had happened.."

"I thought she didn't know I was in Woodbury!"

"Yeah about that…."Merle said. "The guys had a great time goin' through your stuff and one of 'em snagged your bike first thing. By the way, where the hell is my Bonneville?"

"Parked." Daryl replied. Hell, it wasn't a lie. The damned thing was parked. On a highway. Miles and miles away.

"Good answer. Right answer." Merle replied. "Anyway…one of the guys was all over your bike. As I was leaving town with the two ding-a-lings, Martinez comes cruising down the road towards us on your motorcycle. Of course, your girl recognized it immediately. I tried to tell her it wasn't yours, that it just looked like yours but she wan't having none of it. She started askin' questions and more questions and I told her I wasn't gonna discuss you with her, that you'd left the group behind and washed your hands of 'em. She pissed and moaned and finally I told her to give me one good reason to tell her anything 'bout you. You know what she said then?" Merle asked and he glanced over at Daryl.

Daryl had started chewing on his thumb. He pulled it away from his mouth for a second and said, "No."

Merle rolled his eyes. He hated it when Daryl chewed his thumbnails or his fingers and the shithead had been doing it since he was a kid.

"She said I should tell her 'cause she loved you."

Daryl blushed and sank down into the seat. Merle was going to have a heyday with this, he was sure.

"So I told her you were dead."

"What?!" Daryl sat up quickly and a wave of intense pain tore through his head. His head had been feeling much better since they'd left Merle's house, even after Merle had slugged him, with only a very manageable minor continuous headache simmering in the background. Daryl brought both hands up and with fingers splayed and held his head as though he thought it was going to explode if he didn't hold it together.

Merle saw this out of the corner of his eye. "What?! What's happening?! Are you okay?"

"Headache," Daryl gasped. "Bad one."

Merle stopped the truck again. "Shit. Lay yourself down on the seat. Here," Merle said as he reached behind him and grabbed one of the pillows that had covered Daryl as part of his 'camping gear' disguise when they left Woodbury. "I stuck your meds in the glove compartment and I put the Fentanyl in there, too. Take one of the Fens, now. There should be a bottle of water in there for you to take it with."

Daryl fumbled with the glove compartment door and opened it, and sure enough, the pills were in there along with a bottle of Evian spring water. Daryl's hands trembled as he struggled to open the pill bottle and he dry swallowed the pill before shakily opening the water bottle and drinking half the bottle. The pain in his head was pounding in time to his heartbeat and he took a deep breath as he waited for the medication to kick in.

"Look at me." Merle instructed and Daryl turned his head and looked at his brother.

Merle shook his head. Daryl's eyes were drifting again and Merle started to worry about just how much damage Morey's kick in the head had done to his younger brother's brain. "We won't make it to Midland before you're out," he told Daryl. "Got directions for me? A street address maybe before you go nighty-night?"

Daryl smirked and closed his eyes. "Turn off the highway onto Garrett Road, then onto Midland Woods Road." He yawned. He could feel the pain ebbing away as a fog rolled into his head. "Go about six miles..white house with a hedge…right side of the road ..think its number….1624."

Merle patted the pillow on the seat next to him with his stump. "Rest your head right here, baby brother," he said.

Daryl curled up on the seat and did as he was told. Merle placed his stump on Daryl's shoulder and softly said, "Now close your eyes and go to sleep. I'll wake you when we get there or if I have any trouble finding the place."

"Thanks…brother." Daryl mumbled, already half asleep.

"Sleep well." Merle said as he patted Daryl's shoulder with his stump. "Tiger."

Merle drove on and was pulling into the driveway of 1624 Midland Woods Road just as the sun peeked up over the horizon. He'd listened to Daryl's irregular breathing for the last hour and a half and had gone over the events of the last twenty four hours in his mind and he had come to a decision. Daryl needed medical attention and the only qualified person that Merle knew of that could give it to him was the veterinarian that was now with Daryl's old group. Daryl's intense headaches worried Merle but Daryl's panicked spell of forgetfulness had _really_ worried Merle. Merle was going to take Daryl back to the group, come hell or high water, so he could get the care he needed. He was still bound and determined to get some payback from Officer Rick Grimes, but if he had to put that off for a while for Daryl's sake, then so be it. Daryl's life was far more important than any vendetta.

* * *

Maggie sat out on the deck with her cup of coffee and watched the sun rise. She had a busy day ahead of her if all went as planned. She was going to work on repairing Daryl's vest once she finished her coffee and then finish helping to build the expansion onto the goat shed. At noon she was going to sneak off with the Hyundai and go to Woodbury. She needed to track down Merle and get some answers and she had to see where Daryl had been laid to rest. She sat back in the chair and sipped at her coffee and a warm breeze whispered through the trees and played across her face. It was going to be a beautiful day and it just didn't seem fair for nature to be soldiering on like it was now that Daryl was gone. But maybe he wasn't gone. Her mind had insisted on nagging her with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Merle had been lying. "Either way, I'm coming to see you, Tiger." Maggie whispered to the breeze as though it would carry her words to him. "And if you're still here, if you still live and breathe, I'm going to hold fast to you and this time, I'm not letting you go."


	19. Chapter 19

Merle backed his truck in the garage and shut the engine off. He stepped out of it and walked to the front of his truck and pulled the overhead door down. He made sure it was shut tightly and used the manual lock to secure it. He nodded with satisfaction and then climbed back into the truck. Merle looked down at Daryl and smiled. "That your new girlfriend?" he asked quietly with amusement. The pillow had made its way out from under Daryl's head and he had curled himself around it, burying his chin into the top of it and hugging it tightly to his chest. Merle leaned back and closed his eyes. Damn, he was tired. The ticking of the cooling engine and Daryl's raspy breathing were the only sounds to be heard and Merle sighed. He hated to do this, but he couldn't let Daryl sleep in the truck. Or could he? No, he'd better not.

"Hey, Darleena, wake up!" he said and he pushed against Daryl's shoulder with his stump.

Daryl grumbled in his sleep and gripped the pillow tighter.

Merle pushed against his brother's shoulder again and this time a hand came up and batted at the air near where Merle's stump hovered. "Fuck off…" Daryl mumbled and then he appeared to go back to sleep.

Merle rolled his eyes. Daryl was usually a very light sleeper and Merle figured that this new resistance to waking up was probably due to Daryl's head being fucked up and Merle feeding him painkillers. Merle leaned over Daryl and put his mouth about two inches from Daryl's right ear. "_Cock a doodle doo_!" he shouted.

Daryl's eyes flew open and he sat up quickly. He looked at Merle with wide eyes as he untangled himself from the pillow and then he leaned back against the seat. Daryl closed his eyes and a small smile played about his lips as he brought a hand up to his forehead. "Dammit, Merle," he mumbled. "You tryin' to give me a heart attack?"

Merle grinned. "'Course not, just trying to wake your lazy ass up. We're at your secret hideaway. Figured you'd want to come inside and stretch out on a bed or a couch for a while and not sleep all smushed up on this seat."

Daryl looked around at the garage's interior.

"This is the right place, isn't it?" Merle asked.

Daryl nodded and moved toward the truck's door. He reached behind the truck's seat and grabbed a pillow and put it under his arm with the one he'd been sleeping with and slid out of the truck.

They both entered the kitchen in the house and Daryl limped into the living room. Merle followed him. Daryl turned to his brother. "You want the recliner or the couch?" he asked.

Merle rubbed his chin between the thumb and fingers of his left hand. "You take the couch." he said and he moved to the living room's picture window and located the small pulley attached to the wall next to it. He drew the drapes closed and said, "We don't need no one seein' us if anyone comes snoopin' around." He pulled the curtain aside slightly and peeked out as if to make sure that no one was lurking around the window at that very second. He turned to where Daryl was sitting on the couch with his right foot resting on his left knee. The two pillows he'd lugged in were stacked on the couch next to him and he had untied his boot and was now trying to yank it off his foot.

Merle watched with amusement for a moment as Daryl grunted and groaned and pulled at his boot.

"Your ankle and your foot got all swelled up in there, didn't they?" he asked.

"Looks that way." Daryl grumbled. "Haven't been able to feel my foot since I got to your place and now I can't get my damned boot off."

"Here," Merle said. "Let me get that for you."

Daryl was about to say, "Right….with one hand?" but thankfully, his brain kept his mouth firmly closed this time.

Daryl moved his hands away from his stubbornly stuck boot and Merle braced his right foot on the edge of the couch and grasped the heel of Daryl's boot with his left hand. "Just a second." Merle said and he leaned forward and peered into Daryl's face.

The intrusion into his personal space caused Daryl to lean back and he cast his eyes downward.

"Don't look down there, dammit, look at me." Merle ordered.

Daryl met his brother's gaze with his own and Merle stared at him intently for what seemed like a long and uncomfortable time and then he gave Daryl a big, toothy grin. "You ain't all stutter-eyed no more. Your head feelin' better?"

The fact that Merle was expressing so much concern about him and had been since they'd met up at Woodbury continued to surprise Daryl. Merle had told him he was going to try to be a better brother and he seemed to be doing his best to accomplish that goal. Of course, hitting Daryl in the face back at the garage had lost him a few points in Daryl's estimation. "Yeah, that Fen stuff really pushed it down, but I'm so damned tired now."

Merle nodded. "It's supposed to help you sleep." He grasped Daryl's boot under the ankle and braced himself against the couch. "Ready?" he asked.

"Just do it," Daryl replied.

Merle pulled at Daryl's boot with all his strength and it popped off his foot. Merle grunted as he fell heavily onto his gluteus maximus and the boot went flying through the air, landing with a crash on the grouping of family photos arranged on the sofa table in the living room and shattering the framed glass.

Merle scrambled to his feet and fetched the boot. He shook the glass from it as Daryl removed the sock from his foot. His right foot and his ankle were both swollen and his ankle was black and blue where the governor had hit it with the hammer. "Shit," he mumbled. "I ain't never gonna get that boot back on this ballooned out foot a mine."

Merle tossed the boot in Daryl's direction and it landed near Daryl's feet. "I can help you wrap your ankle and your foot up before we go and we'll get it shoved into your boot just fine." he told his brother. "Now where are them maps and papers at?"

Daryl didn't want Merle pawing through the maps and papers until he'd had a chance to remove the papers containing the Looking Glass base information from them. Merle was his brother, but Daryl knew well enough not to trust him to stay away from Rick Grimes if he knew where to find him. He yawned and stretched and then said, "We don't need 'em right now. Let's get some rest like you said, we can go through 'em before we leave."

Daryl sat back and pivoted, swinging his legs up onto the couch. He positioned one of the pillows under his head and leaned back into it. He was tired and achy and dammit, why did he want to sleep so much lately? 'Cause I'm tired and achy maybe?' And the meds. Merle had said that he was giving Daryl something that would help him sleep.

Merle jogged over to the recliner and did a half twist in the air as he launched himself into it so that his rear was the first part of his body to hit the chair. It creaked and groaned as Merle's ass hit the seat cushion and he sank back into the large overstuffed chair.

Daryl had watched Merle's little display and he smirked. "That was a real nice twisty-jumpin'-move thing you just did there." he said and he yawned again and gingerly rubbed his puffy eyes. "You gonna try out for the ballet?"

Merle leaned forward in the recliner and squinted as he placed a finger on his chin to make it look like he was considering it. "Maybe. If I do, can I borrow your pink tutu, Darleena?"

"Touché," Daryl said as he threw a pillow in Merle's direction. Merle caught it and dropped it in his lap. He punched it a couple times and shook it to fluff it up and then stuck it behind his head and opened up the recliner so it was almost fully extended. He fidgeted a bit and then settled in to a comfortable position with his hand and his stump resting on his stomach. "Ahhhh….now this is comfortable." he drawled. "Think I'll try to make room in back of the truck for this here chair and bring it with us."

"Ain't no room for somethin' that big." Daryl said as he turned onto his side and repositioned the pillow beneath his head.

"I could rearrange things, stuff a bunch a stuff in the cab and tie you to the roof..."

Daryl draped his arm over his eyes. "Yeah, good luck with that." he mumbled.

"Awww..you know I'm just givin' you a hard time, baby brother, but this chair is damned comfortable. I suppose that there's plenty of comfortable chairs to be had up in Maine, though, and if the place up there is stocked the way you think it is, it will be a good place for us."

Daryl was only half listening to Merle. His eyes were closed and he was already half way to being asleep.

"How do you know the military isn't holding down the place in Maine?" he asked Daryl. "And how the hell did your girl come up with 'Tiger' for a nickname for ya?" Daryl didn't answer and Merle turned his head and looked over at him. "Are you asleep or just fakin' so you don't have to talk to me? Darleena? Darleeeeeeena! Hey! _Hey!_ I'm talkin' to you!" Merle smiled. It appeared that Daryl really had fallen asleep but had he really? Merle thought he knew how to find out. "Hey, Darleena! Hey! Hey! Daryl! You still awake? 'Cause, you know, I decided I wanted to confess to you that I fucked your cute lil' girlfriend in the barn at that farm. Yup. I'm sorry baby brother, but she just couldn't keep her hands offa me."

There was no reaction from his younger brother and Merle had just decided that Daryl really had already fallen asleep and had closed his eyes himself when a quiet and tired sounding but gruff voice broke the silence. "In your dreams."

Merle laughed.

* * *

Maggie pounded the roofing nails into the shingles on the goat shed's newly extended roof. She was kneeling on the part of the roof she had already shingled and she stopped for a moment and reached behind her and pulled a faded red rag from where it hung out of her back pocket. She sat back on her ankles and wiped the rag across her sweaty brow. She had two more rows to go and the roof would be done. The tar paper beneath the shingles was soft and mushy because of the heat and worse than that, the sun beating down on it had made it extremely hot. Maggie could feel the heat from the roof coming through her jeans and she was glad she wore gloves to keep from burning her fingers as she positioned the nails on the shingles and drove them in. She stuck the rag back in her rear pocket and got back to work. She was going to get this roof finished and then she was going to take a quick shower and head to Woodbury.

Two walkers were wandering around outside the chain link fence, moaning and occasionally stopping to grasp the fence and look through it to where Maggie was working on the shed.

The pair of goats were lying in the grass under one of the small apple trees that stood against the fence line farthest from the house. They were chewing their cuds and alternated between watching their humans work on their new home and watching the two human looking but dead smelling things on the other side of the fence. They had been tied to stakes in the ground to keep them from getting into the garden and helping themselves to everything and anything growing there.

Glenn and Carl had helped put up the new walls earlier that morning and added what Maggie thought was a very cute pair of Dutch doors to the miniature barn. They still needed to paint the new addition, but they had called a time out due to the unbearable heat and retreated to the house for some iced sweet tea. There was also talk of jumping into the lake to cool off a bit before returning to finish up the goat shed.

"I don't know how anyone can think that being told to 'go jump in a lake' is insulting. I think it sounds like a great idea!" Carl had said at Glenn's suggestion that he do that very thing after an argument about the ability of certain comic book heroes to beat up other comic book heroes had gone on for several minutes.

"Wolverine could take the Hulk down." Carl had insisted.

"Yeah, right. You are so wrong on that." Glenn had countered as he pounded a board into place. "The only way Wolverine could come close to beating the Hulk would be if the Hulk was David Banner and not the Hulk at the time of the fight. Hulk has super strength and Wolverine doesn't. Wolverine may have the adamantium skeleton and the retractable claws, and he has self-healing powers, but he still isn't as strong as Hulk. The Hulk could rip him in half. I'd like to see him try to heal himself if that happened. "

"Wolverine is fast," Carl argued as he steadied the next board for Glenn. "Way faster than the Hulk. He could dart in and slice and dice him with his claws and then jump away before the Hulk could grab him."

"What?" Glenn said around the nails that he held in his mouth as he lined up the next board. "Hulk isn't slow! He would catch Wolverine and rip those wimpy claws right out of his mutant hands."

Carl's eyes got wide and then he narrowed them at Glenn. "Wolverine's claws are _not_ wimpy!" he shouted.

"Oh yes, they _are_." Glenn countered.

"Adamantium is the strongest metal in the universe! How can you say claws made from the strongest metal in the universe are wimpy?!" Carl demanded.

"Because Wolverine is wimpy. And he's stupid, too." Glenn added for good measure. "Always smoking those damned cigars. He's gonna die of lung cancer, the big nincompoop!"

Maggie rolled her eyes as she positioned the next sheet of shingles on the roof and prepared to nail it in place.

"Wolverine is _not_ a nincompoop! His powers heal his lungs every time he smokes!" Carl retorted. "What about the Hulk and all that radiation he got blasted with? Talk about a recipe for cancer! He probably glows in the dark!"

"He's immune to cancer because of the radiation," Glenn said smugly.

"No," Carl countered, "because there are different types of radiation. Hulk was hit with gamma rays and those are what made him become able to transform into that big, stupid, green oaf."

"Hulk is _not_ an _oaf_!" Glenn shouted.

Maggie stood up and removed her gloves. She looked down at Glenn and Carl and sighed as placed her hands on her hips. "Would you two please stop arguing and toss me a bottle of water?" she asked.

"Sure," Carl said and he reached into the small igloo cooler just inside the shed door and pulled a bottle of water out of it. "Catch," he said as he tossed it up to where Maggie stood on the roof.

Maggie caught it and twisted the cap off. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was. "Thanks," she said. She drank half of the water and then put the cool bottle up against the hot skin of her forehead. It felt so good.

"You know what I always wondered?" Carl was asking Glenn as he handed him a bottle of water.

"What?" Glenn responded as he accepted the bottle.

"How come we can still see Wonder Woman when she's flying around in her invisible jet?! I mean, I know its invisible, but if she's in it, wouldn't it make her invisible, too?"

"I know!" Glenn exclaimed. "You know, there was an episode in Robot Chicken where Wonder Woman is sitting and cruising through the air in her invisible jet and Superman flies up next to her to say 'hi' and it turns out that she's actually not flying her jet at all, but sitting on the toilet in its bathroom!" Glenn and Carl both burst into laughter. "I laughed so hard I almost cried!" Glenn said happily.

The conversation between the two drifted back to the Hulk vs. Wolverine debate and Glenn suggested that Carl go jump in a lake and then they both were making apologies to Maggie and promising to finish up the work on the shed after they'd had an iced tea/swim break.

Maggie finished her water by herself and put her gloves back on and she was moving the last section of shingles into place when she heard the back porch door open. It was too soon for Glenn and Carl to be back. She glanced over at the door and saw her father coming down the porch steps. She bit her lower lip and started hammering a nail into the shingles.

"Margaret?" her father called to her as he waved a hand in greeting. "I need to speak with you."

Maggie sighed quietly. She had not mentioned her plans to go to Woodbury to her father at all, but she was sure from the serious look on his face that Rick had filled him in on her plans to go there. "I'm almost done here, dad. I'll be down in just a couple of minutes," she said and she forced a smile.

"Okay," Hershel said and he gave his eldest daughter a small smile in return. "I'll go get us a couple of glasses of iced tea and we can sit on the back porch and talk."

Maggie nodded and then said, "Umm…dad? Can you tell me what this is about?"

Hershel met her gray green eyes with his blue ones and raised his eyebrows, the small smile never leaving his face. "You know exactly what this is about," he said and he turned and headed back across the lawn to the porch.

Damn that Rick Grimes and his big fat mouth, Maggie thought. She finished nailing the last section of shingles to the roof and took off her work gloves. She stuck the hammer in the tool belt she was wearing and dropped the box of unused roofing nails into the pouch on the belt before tucking the gloves between the belt and her jeans. She was sweaty and dirty and she wanted to shower before she left for Woodbury. The last thing she wanted to do was to have a talk with her father where she was quite sure he would lay down all the reasons he felt that she should not go to Woodbury.

Maggie climbed down the ladder and walked toward the house. She had just put her foot on the first stair when Hershel came out the back door holding a glass of iced tea in each hand.

Maggie hopped up the rest of the stairs and approached her father with a smile. He smiled back at her and held one of the glasses out to her. She took it from him and he motioned to the bench and the rocking chair on the porch. "Why don't we sit down over here and chat." he said. Maggie plunked herself down on the bench and Hershel eased himself into the rocking chair next to it.

"Ooo, a straw! How nice!" Maggie exclaimed as she took the tip of the straw in her mouth and sucked up half her glass of iced tea. "I promise I won't flush it. I'll dispose of it properly when I'm done with it." she said in a little girl voice and then proceeded to blow bubbles into the tea.

Hershel watched Maggie as she played with her iced tea. When she was a toddler, she had gone through a phase where she wouldn't drink anything unless she drank it through a straw. Hershel and Maggie's mother had indulged her little quirk because:

1. It seemed to be harmless and

2. It was easier to stick a straw into a glass of milk or juice than it was to argue with a stubborn, crying three year old and

3. They figured the phase wouldn't last long.

They were wrong_. _

Maggie was six when Hershel announced that he was through buying those big industrial sized boxes of straws at Costco and there would be no more of them allowed into the house. This announcement was made after he had spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon taking drainage pipes apart while Maggie's mother sopped up water from the floors and dumped buckets of it out the back door.

The toilet had backed up and water had run all over the floor and down the stairs. While Hershel was off on an emergency call at the Cartwright farm where one of their prize cows was having a difficult time delivering a calf and Mrs. Greene was doing laundry and hanging it out on the clothesline, Maggie and her brother, Sean, spent part of the morning in the bathroom, flushing plastic straws down the toilet. They tried to explain to their father that they hadn't been flushing the straws to be naughty, but rather it was all in the name of science. They were experimenting to see how many flushes it took to flush a steadily increasing number of straws down the toilet. They were up to thirty eight straws. It had taken six flushes to get thirty seven down and Sean insisted Maggie had cheated by throwing a wash cloth into the toilet bowl on top of the straws to help them find their way to the bottom of the bowl instead of floating to the top. Hershel had found a solid packed blockage ten feet down in the toilet's flush pipe. The blockage was about a foot long made up of tangled plastic straws and three wash cloths.

Maggie and Sean were sent to their rooms and were not allowed to watch any television for three days. The rest of the straws in the house were thrown into the rubbish and true to his word, the Greene family remained straw-free except for the stragglers that came home in unfinished beverages from McDonalds or Burger King.

Hershel put his glass of iced tea on the porch floor next to the rocking chair and leaned forward towards where Maggie sat on the bench. "It's my understanding that you want to go to Woodbury and talk to Daryl's brother again." he said.

Maggie felt a faint smirk tug at her lips. Her father had never been one to beat around the bush. "I need to know what happened to Daryl and where Merle buried him. I should at least be allowed to see where he was laid to rest."

"But do you really think it's a good idea? From what I've been told, Daryl's brother isn't anything like Daryl. Rick thinks he's dangerous."

Maggie snorted. "Of course Rick thinks he's dangerous, and I'd be afraid of him if I was Rick. He's still plenty bitter about Rick leaving him handcuffed to a pipe on that rooftop in Atlanta. I can't say that I blame him."

"Don't you be getting mad at Rick about _that_. I'm sure Rick had his reasons." Hershel said. "And Daryl was able to forgive Rick for doing that to his brother, so you should just forget it happened."

"Daddy, Rick Grimes left a man shackled and alone to _die_ and he would have died, too; either from heat stroke, thirst, starvation, or by being eaten by walkers. He left Merle defenseless and trapped! Knowing this, don't you think you might want to reassess just who this Rick Grimes really is?"

"Maggie, you don't know the whole story and Rick has been nothing but respectful and helpful to us since we first met him." Hershel said trying to remain calm.

"Dad, I'm going to Woodbury. The people in the town were nice and friendly and Merle is one of the head honchos there. Everyone respects him. He wouldn't hurt me."

"That may be so, but what about the man that runs the town? Glenn told us that Merle said that this man is always looking for places to raid supplies from and that he has no qualms about killing people and stealing their resources."

"I never heard Merle say that." Maggie said.

"Do you doubt it? Didn't Merle say that Daryl was forced to go to Woodbury and that he was killed because he wouldn't reveal the source of his weapons and supplies?"

Maggie nodded and said, "Yes, that's what Merle told us."

"Do you believe him?" Hershel asked.

Maggie hung her head and scuffed her feet on the floor of the porch. "I honestly don't know if I do or not." she said quietly. "I don't _want_ to believe him and until I see where Daryl's buried, I choose not to. I'm going to assume that Merle is hiding Daryl and that he's okay."

Hershel sighed. "Maggie, I know you think you had fallen in love with Daryl, and I don't mean to sound uncaring or cruel, but Daryl left this house and everyone in it. Including you. He didn't appear to have any intentions of coming back, either, so I have to ask you, does it really matter whether he's with Merle or not?"

Maggie turned her head and stared wide-eyed at her father. "What? Are you serious?"

Hershel sat back in the rocker and sighed. "Maggie, you need to look at the facts. Daryl had washed his hands of you and he was going to go north and try to get to Maine. You were never going to hear from him again, anyway."

"That's not true! He and Rick talked about getting the ham radio up and running since there would more than likely be one at the base in Maine! He was going to try to radio us once he got there!"

"Maggie," Hershel said firmly. "The man left and he left you behind. He didn't want to be a part of the group any longer. He didn't want to be with you any longer! He didn't want you! You need to accept that and you need to stay away from Woodbury and move on with your life!"

Maggie shot to her feet and snatched up her now empty iced tea glass. She bit her tongue to keep the harsh words on the tip of it from spilling from her mouth and then she surprised her father by bending over and kissing him on the cheek. She put a hand on his shoulder and swallowed hard before she said, "You know something, daddy? I think those are probably the cruelest things I've ever heard you say, and I don't just 'think' I love Daryl. I know I do. With all my heart." She turned and walked toward the kitchen door without looking back.

Hershel sighed and watched her go. He had tried to reason with her but it hadn't worked. He knew damned well that Maggie would be sneaking off to Woodbury sometime in the near future and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it except maybe pray for her safe return.

**Another no action chapter! I'm sorry! There will be action in this story! Really! I promise! I just haven't gotten the ship to that island yet!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 and no walkers in this chapter either! ? Stuff starts to hit the fan in the next chapter. This chapter is a lead up to it. I know I'm ready for some blood and guts and death and mayhem. Are you? Next chapter, not this one though. Sorry! **

Maggie adjusted the hunting knife and the Glock 23 hanging from her belt before she sat down in the overstuffed chair in Daryl's bedroom. So far, no one had staked a claim on the room and Maggie found herself spending a lot of quiet time in it. No matter who ended up in it eventually, Maggie decided that it was always going to be 'Daryl's bedroom' to her. She unfolded a pale blue bath towel and draped it over her lap. She smoothed it out and then reached down into the duffel bag next to the chair and lifted Daryl's tattered leather vest out of it. She examined it for a moment as she held it up before laying it across her lap on the towel. Maggie pushed her hair behind her ears to keep it from falling into her eyes and then she began to carefully inspect the vest's damages. She ran her fingers across the soft, worn leather and arranged the vest so the ragged blood-stained through and through holes lined up. She cocked an eyebrow. The entry holes in the front of the vest lined up perfectly with the exit holes in the back of the vest. This wasn't right. Maggie poked her finger through a hole in the front of the vest so it came out the matching hole in the back of it. She then the same with the other two through and through bullet holes. She held the vest up again and examined the holes closely. Her eyes widened and her lips slowly formed a smirk.

"You asshole, Merle," she muttered.

It had suddenly become clear to Maggie that there was no way that the holes in Daryl's vest had been made while he was wearing it. The entrance and exit holes were exactly the same size and they lined up too perfectly for there to have been anything between the front and back of the vest when the damage was done to it. No one was wearing the vest when those three through and through holes were made.

The fact that the exit holes in the back of the vest were the same size as the entrance holes in the front was telling as well. Bullets, unless they were solid or full metal jacket target/range loads, would either mushroom upon impact with a body and/or fragment. Either way, the exit wound, if there was one, was usually a good deal larger than the entrance wound. Maggie's smirk turned into a smile and then she hugged the vest to her chest and started to laugh.

Merle had done a good job when he doctored up Daryl's vest, but he'd messed up by not paying enough attention to the details like entry and exit wound size and shrapnel holes. Merle thought that Daryl's bloody vest would be the evidence Maggie needed to convince her that Daryl was dead and ironically, it had just convinced her that Daryl was alive.

Maggie felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her soul and she hummed to herself as she rose from the chair and turned and opened the closet door. She found a wooden hanger on the clothes rod and hung the vest up. She would repair it for Daryl later. First she had to go find him and bring him back home.

But what if he refused to come with her? What if this whole 'Daryl's dead' masquerade had been his idea? No, she thought, Daryl wouldn't do something like that to her.

"Why not? He left you, didn't he?" Imaginary Merle's voice said in her head. "This way y'all move on with your lives and no one is worryin' or wonderin' about where he is or what he's doin'. Was for the best."

Maggie giggled. Now she was hearing Merle in her head? Was she going nuts? Was Carol's case of 'batshit crazy' contagious? She remembered when Daryl had told her about hearing Merle's voice in his head and how he wondered if he was going crazy.

"Honestly think I'm crazy or headed in that direction. Merle talks to me in my head a lot.." he'd said to her. What had she said to him in response?

"That doesn't make you crazy. Not at all. It's probably just a coping mechanism."

Was hearing Merle in her head trying to explain himself just a coping mechanism for her?

"Probably," said Imaginary Merle.

No, the bloody, damaged vest ploy had not been Daryl's idea. Daryl wouldn't do something that hurtful to her.

"Sure he would." Imaginary Merle snorted. "He told you he couldn't love you an' he took off for parts unknown. That wasn't hurtful?"

Maggie took a deep breath and walked over to the door that lead to the porch. She leaned against it for a second collecting her thoughts before she stepped out onto the porch and looked around. No one was there or in the back yard. She listened carefully and she could make out the sounds of people talking and laughing and splashing coming from the front of the house. It sounded like most of the members of the group were outside on the front deck or enjoying themselves in the water. Maggie closed and locked the door to Daryl's room behind her and let herself in the kitchen door. She grabbed a glass of water and then made her way through the dining room. She needed to speak to her father and then be on her way.

She was reaching for the door handle in the living room to see if he was out on the deck with the others when she heard a voice speak to her from across the room.

"Are you going to take a swim? I was thinking of getting into the water for a little while myself." Hershel said.

"No, daddy." Maggie replied as she turned from the door and walked toward the couch where her father sat, a book now resting open and upside down on his lap. "I was just looking for you."

"You were? Well, you've found me."

Maggie sat down on the couch next to her father and leaned back, resting her head on the top of the couch's back cushion. "I was thinking about what you said to me earlier."

"I'm truly sorry if I hurt your feelings, sweetie, but you have to face facts." Hershel said kindly but firmly.

"I know, but I don't think you know what the facts are, daddy."

Hershel stroked the white beard on his chin. "I don't?"

"No, you don't, so I'm here to clear a few of them up for you, if you don't mind." Maggie said as she turned to look into her father's face.

"By all means," Hershel replied, "please enlighten me."

Maggie wasn't sure if her father was being sarcastic or honestly wanted to hear her out. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was not just humoring her and was truly interested in what she had to say.

"You said Daryl left me and that he didn't want me anymore. Not only was that hurtful, it just isn't true. Daryl cares about me, daddy, he just isn't comfortable showing it and he doesn't feel like he's good enough for me or that he can give me what he thinks that I need or deserve." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the smooth heart shaped stone Daryl had left on the nightstand the morning he had left and showed it to her father. "He left this for me with a small bouquet of flowers the morning he left. Does Daryl Dixon strike you as the type of man who gives random women flowers and gifts or that he does that sort of thing on a regular basis?"

Hershel smiled and he reached for the stone his daughter was holding. She let him take it and he looked it over, rubbing his thumb over the smooth, cool surface of the perfectly symmetrical heart shaped rock. "No." he admitted and handed it back to her. "I know you two had a connection, everyone could see that, but Maggie, he left and he didn't want you going with him. Any feelings he had for you weren't that important to him."

Maggie looked at the floor. She had told Daryl she wouldn't mention Lily to anyone, and she'd already broken that promise once by telling Glenn about her. It was important to her to make her father understand the situation, though. "Or maybe they were, but he was afraid of them. I think Daryl resists and shuts out any feelings of caring and affection. Daryl was in a relationship with a woman he loved deeply several years ago. It didn't end well and he's never gotten over it. He told me that he doesn't think he knows how to love anyone anymore and that it isn't worth the hurt."

Hershel sighed. "I sort of suspected something like that had probably happened," he said. "You know, I asked him if he was leaving because of you and he said that you weren't the reason." Hershel smiled. "He also admitted that his feelings for you had changed and that he couldn't promise that if he stayed here, he'd be able to keep away from you."

Maggie's eyes widened. "So why didn't you tell me that instead of saying the horrible things that you said?!"

"Because Daryl is gone and you need to get over it and move on! You're too young to be holding a torch for a man who you'll never see again. He _left_, Maggie. He decided he didn't want to be around us anymore."

"Can you blame him? After what we all did to him? Daryl left because he didn't feel he belonged with us! You know better than anyone else how much he's had to endure from everyone here. He was physically attacked by Glenn, Andrea, Dale, Shane, even Lori!" she lowered her eyes. "Even me. I'm truly ashamed that I'm on the list of people who attacked him, too. Then Carol tried to kill him and Andrea pulled her gun on him!" Maggie motioned to the room around them, "Daddy, Daryl found this house. He asked the group to move in here because he thought everyone would be safer here. He knew he was going to be uncomfortable with everyone around but he put what was best for him aside and did what was best for everyone else. Look what it got him."

Hershel had to admit to himself that Maggie was absolutely right and he'd noticed the tragic pattern before the day that all hell broke loose when Carol tried to shoot Daryl. "Maggie, I agree with you." he said, "Daryl did get the raw end of the deal here, but it's all water under the bridge now. There is nothing we can do to change what happened. I'm sorry, sweetie, but Daryl's dead now and nothing can changed that."

"I think he's still alive." Maggie said and she looked at her father to gauge his reaction.

Hershel raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" This worried Hershel. Was Maggie going to start clinging to false hope? "And what makes you think that?" he asked. Maybe it would be good for her to go to Woodbury and for Merle to show her where Daryl was buried.

Hershel listened patiently while Maggie explained what she had discovered about the damage on Daryl's vest and how she was convinced that Merle had damaged the vest to make her believe that Daryl had been killed.

Hershel was surprised but decided it would be prudent to proceed with caution. "What about his motorcycle?" he asked, "Didn't you see a man riding Daryl's motorcycle?"

"Yes, but if Merle is perpetrating this lie to his boss and the guys at Woodbury who brought Daryl in and questioned him, of course he's not going to say a thing about them taking Daryl's motorcycle or his things." She bit her lower lip and her eyes welled up with tears. "I don't doubt that the men who caught Daryl more than likely hurt him. I don't know how badly, but I think he's with Merle now and Merle is…" she broke off as she remembered Merle stepping out of the spare bedroom at his house just as she was about to open the door to the room. Come to think of it, Merle had been in an awful hurry to close the door behind him and herd her away from the room and send her off to fetch Glenn.

"Daddy, I need to go to Woodbury and talk to Merle. I'm almost positive that Daryl is with him and that Merle's looking out for him. If Merle is hiding Daryl and Daryl was hurt when he was captured, Merle isn't going to be able to get medical attention for him. I need to get him back here." Maggie explained.

"What if you're wrong? What if Merle's telling the truth?" Hershel asked.

Maggie rubbed the back of her neck with her right hand and said, "If I'm wrong and Daryl did get killed, and Merle can show me a fresh gravesite where Daryl's buried, I'll have the closure I need and I'll come right back here." She put her hands on the knife in its sheath and the gun in its holster and patted them. "See? I'm ready to go now and the sooner I leave the sooner I'll be back. Okay?"

Hershel sighed. Maggie was making perfect sense and he found himself feeling cautiously optimistic. Maybe Daryl was with Merle. "Okay, I understand why you feel you need to go back to Woodbury, but I'm going with you. There is no way I'm going to let you go alone."

Maggie shook her head. "No, you won't be able to…"

"I'll go with her." a voice said from the other side of the living room near the dining room entrance. Andrea stood just inside the living room holding a full glass of iced tea. She was in her bathing suit and had thrown a light blue gauze cotton beach cover up dress on over it. Her hair was up in a messy bun and the four thin lined fingernail scratches on her cheek had scabbed over.

Maggie thought Andrea looked like some tough, bar fighting prostitute.

Andrea had been on her way from the kitchen to the deck and she had come to a halt when she heard Hershel say Daryl's name as he spoke with his daughter. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overhear. I'll go with Maggie," she said as she met Hershel's eyes.

"I don't think either of you..." Maggie began.

Andrea cut her off. "Please. Please let me come with you. No offense, Hershel, but I'm better suited for this sort of trip than you are, and after the way I behaved and what I did it's the least I can do."

Maggie narrowed her eyes at Andrea. "Absolutely no…" was all she managed to say before her father cut her off.

"Thank you Andrea. I'm sure your presence would be a help rather than the hindrance that I would probably end up being."

Maggie rolled her eyes. She looked directly at Andrea and said, "Dad, I'm more than capable of making this trip on my own. I don't see why.."

"Because it will make your poor old father feel better about this little excursion of yours if Andrea is with you. That's why." Hershel said.

Maggie nodded. "Okay. If it will make you feel better."

"Thank you. Try to be back tonight, if you can. I'm going to worry the whole time you're both away."

"We'll be fine." Maggie said and she leaned into her father and gave him a hug before she stood up and approached Andrea.

"How fast can you be ready to go?" she asked.

Andrea finished her iced tea and sat the glass down on a side table next to one of the leather chairs. "You head out to the car," she said as she walked past Maggie and toward the stairs, "and I'll meet you there in five minutes."

"Okay, and I'm taking the truck." Maggie called over her shoulder as she started into the dining room.

* * *

Maggie grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator and snagged the truck keys off the key holder in the kitchen. She stepped out the back door and jogged across the lawn toward the gate by the driveway.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" a voice called out.

Maggie wheeled around to where the voice had come from. Rick was standing in the doorway of the garage, holding a five gallon gas can with his right hand and a length of rope in his left.

Maggie did her best to remain calm and collected and she looked Rick in the eye and said, "Rick, I've spoken with my father and I'm going to Woodbury and you can't stop me. I'm almost positive that Daryl is there with Merle. I'm going to go and get him and bring him back here."

Rick sighed and approached Maggie. "Your father knows you're going to Woodbury and he's okay with it? He's letting you go?"

Maggie nodded. "He isn't happy about it, but he understands why I have to do this."

Rick put the gas can and the rope on the ground next to him. He sighed and put his hands on his hips. "You're going by yourself?" he asked.

Maggie was inwardly relieved. He wasn't going to try to tell her he wouldn't allow her to go. "No. Andrea wants to come with me."

Rick ran a hand through his hair. "You and Andrea. Going to Woodbury." He sighed and said, "Maggie, I really don't think this is a good idea."

Maggie put her hands on her hips and glared at Rick defiantly. "Rick, I have evidence that proves, to me anyway, that Daryl is alive and with Merle in Woodbury. I'm going to go get him."

"What about the vest?" Rick asked.

"I think Merle wrecked it to make us think Daryl had been shot. You can ask my Dad about it. I explained everything to him and I don't have time to…"

"I'm coming!" Andrea called as she exited the kitchen door onto the porch. She stopped her approach when she saw Rick who had turned to look at her when she had called out to Maggie.

"Let's go then!" Maggie said and she turned and started to walk towards the gate.

"Just a minute!" Rick called after her.

Maggie stopped and turned as Andrea jogged up to join her. "Rick, you can't.."

"No, I get it. You're going to Woodbury. I was just going to say be careful and get back as soon as you can. If you're not back here by this time tomorrow, I'm coming after you."

"We'll be back." Maggie said. Andrea followed her to the F150. Soon they had cleared the gate to the lake house and were traveling down Forest Lake Road.

"We need to make a stop at the farm before we go to Woodbury." Maggie told Andrea.

"Why?" Andrea asked.

"I need to grab a couple of milking pails and the milking stool as well as a case of bottles and a box of caps." Maggie explained. This was something she and Glenn had meant to do and it would only take a couple of minutes. Once she had Daryl back at the lake house she sure as heck wasn't going to be wanting to leave him to make a run to the farm for these things so it was best to grab them now, she reasoned to herself. After all, they had to go by Fairburn Road on their way to Woodbury anyway.

"E-i E-i O." Andrea replied.

Maggie bit her lower lip. Was Andrea making fun of her? She knew it was going to be awkward, taking Andrea with her.

As if reading her mind, Andrea sighed and said, "Look. I'm sorry I got into such a snit about you and Daryl. I thought about it and I realized that you were right, you never intended to fall for Daryl and I'm sure you were almost as surprised that it happened as I was. I was just hurt because you already had a nice guy and I thought Daryl and I could…" she broke off and didn't finish her sentence. They were both silent for a moment and Andrea said, "So you really think he's still alive?"

"Yes." Maggie said. "I really do."

* * *

"Hey, Darleena, wake up." Merle said as he poked Daryl's left shoulder. He had awakened from a surprisingly restful sleep and extracted himself from the recliner and stretched before stepping out the back door to answer nature's call. He rifled through the drawers in the kitchen and found the maps and papers about the bases beneath the silverware holder in the silverware drawer.

"First place anyone would look, dummy," he said to himself as he perused the papers. He grinned when he read about Looking Glass base's amenities and location. "Not bad, baby brother. Not bad at all. Now why on earth do you want to drive way the hell to Maine when all we got to do is kick all the other assholes outta that house and claim it as our own? It's just that simple."

Merle put the papers back where he found them and entered the living room.

Merle poked Daryl again and Daryl shifted in his sleep and mumbled. Merle noticed that Daryl's hair was matted down with sweat and beneath the bruises littering his face, his skin was flushed. Merle frowned and rested his hand on Daryl's forehead, pulling it away after feeling the heat against his cool hand. "Fever's back." he muttered.

He grasped Daryl's shoulder and shook it and Daryl groaned.

"Come on, wake up. We gotta get movin'." Merle said impatiently and he shook Daryl harder.

"Okay….okay…I'm up, I'm up.." Daryl mumbled.

Merle helped to pull him into a sitting position. "Come on then, we're gonna get out of here, and you need to take those damned antibiotic pills and whateverthehell else pills you're supposed to be takin'. You got a fever on top of everything else that's a matter with you."

"Fever? An' here I thought I'd just woke up in hell." Daryl mumbled.

Merle grinned.

Daryl was right, there was no way the boot was going back on his foot, so he hobbled along with one boot on and the other foot bare. Even the sock was too tight. Merle gathered up the two pillows and Daryl took the maps and papers out of the drawer and shuffled through them before handing the atlas with the route to Maine highlighted to Merle.

Daryl didn't speak much at all and Merle noticed that his eyes drifted whenever he looked in his direction.

They finally were in the truck and ready to go. When they reached the end of the driveway Merle stopped and made sure Daryl took his antibiotic pills and the pills Hershel had given him to take. "Your head still achin?" he asked.

Daryl nodded.

"Then take one of the Fens, too."

"Don't wanna. They make me sleepy."

"Nothin' wrong with that. Best for both of us if you sleep. You don't have to deal with a headache an I don't have to listen to you talk an' ask stupid questions."

"No such thing as a stupid question," Daryl said as he fumbled in the glove compartment for the Fentanyl. " just stupid answers."

"That's debatable." Merle answered as he watched Daryl swallow one of the pills.

Merle turned right onto Midland Woods Road and they drove in silence for a few minutes.

"Why did you tell her I was dead?" Daryl asked out of the blue.

"'Cause what you did was cruel." Merle answered. "Just leavin' her like you did. What kind of ass are you, anyway? Lettin' that girl drive herself nuts wonderin' where you are and if you're okay."

Daryl snorted. "She woulda forgot all about me soon enough." he said and he closed his eyes.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Merle said. "I mean, hell, in another month or so you will have forgotten all about her, too."

"Not very likely." Daryl mumbled.

"What was that?" Merle asked, leaning his head toward Daryl as he watched the road ahead.

"Nothin'." Daryl said.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. That's why I told her what I did; because you're too much of an ass to let her go right proper. You threw her back like you shoulda, only thing is, you forgot to remove the hook and the line. I just cut that line is all. Let her go after you fucked it up."

Daryl closed his eyes. Merle was right.

"Only thing is, now I gotta eat my words."

"Yeah?" Daryl asked tiredly. "How so?"

"I'm takin' you back to your group. You're hurt and you're sick and I don't have a clue about what to do to get you better and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you die on my watch."

"I can't go back there." Daryl insisted. "They don't want me there and I don't wanna go back."

"We're goin' anyway, so shut up and sit tight."

Daryl sighed. "You don't even know where they are." he said quietly.

"Maybe not, but I know where that farm is and we're gonna stop there first, grab some tools and then you can go over those papers with me, or I can look 'em over myself."

"I ain't goin back to the lake house." Daryl muttered.

Merle smiled. "Your buddies are all camped out in a house by a lake? That sounds pretty sweet."

Daryl opened his eyes for just a moment and glared at Merle. The tricky bastard. Daryl cursed under his breath. Damn his big, fat traitorous blabbermouth. Then he leaned his head against the truck's window and closed his eyes again as it started to rain. He decided that he was done talking with Merle for a while.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21. I hope you like it. If you don't, I'm sorry, but the money back guarantee has expired.** **Oh well**.

Dark clouds rolled in from the east, blanketing the sky. The air was thick with humidity and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Maggie had given Andrea a few more details about her brief interactions with Merle and Andrea had found that Maggie was much more informative than Glenn had been. Andrea came to the conclusion that it was because Glenn was probably scared shitless just being in Merle's presence again so he hadn't taken in many details. He was probably just concentrating on staying alive while in the crazy redneck's presence. Of course, there had been another distraction for Glenn as well. According to Maggie, Glenn had been all wrapped up in some girl they met in Woodbury.

"I still can't believe Merle was civil to you," Andrea said as they drove toward Fairburn Road. "He was such a total and complete asshole when he was with all of us back at the quarry and after what happened on the roof in Atlanta, I'm surprised that he didn't filet Glenn within thirty seconds of running into him."

"Glenn told me he was bad news." Maggie said. "He said he was short-tempered, loud, obnoxious, a racist and a bully and usually higher than a kite. Did that cover everything?"

Andrea smiled. Merle had made no bones about expressing his disdain for minorities and T-Dog and Glenn had often been the targets of his offensive comments and an occasional shove or cuff across the back of the head. "He forgot sexist male chauvinist pig." she said. "He had some wonderful nicknames for me."

Maggie raised her eyebrows and smirked. "Oh, I can just imagine!"

"His favorite one and the one he used the most was 'Sugar Tits'. I _hated_ that one with a passion."

Maggie frowned. "Sugar Tits? That's awful! I'm surprised you didn't kill him in his sleep!"

"He had a couple other ones he'd throw out once in a while, too." Andrea explained. "'Uppity bitch', 'two dollar whore', you know, really sweet terms of endearment like that."

"I guess I got lucky." Maggie said. "Glenn said he kept calling me 'the spitfire'."

They were both quiet for a few moments lost in their own thoughts and then Andrea said, "When Merle was with the group, he was always stirring up trouble. He was loud and abrasive and Daryl was quiet and sort of stayed in the background. We all assumed that Daryl was just a quieter, younger version of Merle. I guess we were quick to judge him based on how his brother behaved. It was wrong, but preconceived notions are hard to shake."

They turned onto Fairburn road and had gone about a quarter of a mile when they came upon a group of eight walkers crouched around and feasting on some unfortunate animal on the side of the road. Andrea could see several more walkers coming out of the woods and making their way across the fields towards them. The smell of decay and death permeated the air as the truck got closer to the group of walkers and Andrea and Maggie both reached for their window control buttons at the same time and put up the truck's windows. "Whew, what a stink!" Andrea said as she fanned her hand in front of her nose. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that smell." She smiled to herself as she remembered the last time she had been out here and how Daryl had smeared walker guts all over himself to avoid being detected by the flesh-eating dead. He had smelled absolutely awful.

A large drop of rain splashed against the windshield followed by another one and then another. "It was time to put the windows up anyway," Andrea mumbled.

Maggie pursed her lips. Didn't it just figure that it would rain today? She looked over at the gorging group of walkers as the truck passed within fifteen feet of them and she saw that the unfortunate creature that they were so eagerly devouring was one of their dairy cows and she frowned. "Poor Daisy Mae," she said sadly.

Andrea glanced out the windshield and up at the darkening sky and then sat back. "I usually love a good thunderstorm," she said, "but the timing of this one really sucks."

"Maybe it will cool things down a bit." Maggie said hopefully, looking for the silver lining in the clouds.

"I hope so. This heat and humidity makes my hair look like hell." Andrea smiled and said, "Do you know how good it feels to even care about something as mundane as how my hair looks? I tell you, I love living in our house by the lake. Even with the bullshit we went through with those soldiers trying to run us out of there and the crap that went down with Shane and that he died in the house tainting the place, I still would not rather be anywhere else."

The rain started coming down harder and they passed several more walkers slowly ambling across the fields and through the rain they could see small groups of them emerging from the woods.

"I don't like this." Maggie said. "There seem to be a lot of walkers out and about today."

Andrea nodded as she watched a group of them stumbling along the roadway up ahead in the rain. "You're right." She said and she glanced down at her Ladysmith peeking out of the waistband of her jeans. She patted it as if to reassure herself that everything was going to be fine and then cleared her throat and said, "'Neither rain nor snow nor even hail will keep the walkers off your tail.'"

Maggie made a face. "That was terrible," she said. "Today's bad poetry was brought to you by…Andrea."

Andrea smiled and added, "Bad poet, uppity bitch and two dollar whore extraordinaire."

They both giggled, thankful for even a momentary break from the tension they felt as they approached the farm.

"We'll drive right up to the barn and I'll grab what we need and then we can go." Maggie said. She paused and then added, "In and out, as quick as possible."

"Sounds like a plan." Andrea replied. She couldn't help it and she smirked and said, "Or some really bad sex."

They giggled again.

As the F-150 turned onto the long gravel driveway that lead to the Greene's farm, Andrea noticed several immobilized walkers scattered along the side of the driveway. Through the rain, she could see that they all had been dispatched with a blow or a shot to the head. Maggie swerved to avoid a couple of the bodies in the driveway and brought the truck to a sudden stop as soon as they rounded the stable. She and Andrea both stared open-mouthed at the barn across the small field behind the farmhouse.

Maggie and Andrea looked at each other at the same time and Andrea pointed towards the barn and the old blue pickup truck parked next to the barn's closed double doors. "Isn't that…?"

"Daryl's truck," Maggie finished. She hit the gas and the rear tires of the F-150 threw up a plume of wet dirt that wasn't quite mud yet as the back-end of the truck fishtailed and then they were speeding across the wet grass towards the barn. Maggie brought the truck to a sliding stop next to the old blue truck and she and Andrea leaped out of the F-150 and into the rain at the same time. They both quickly approached Daryl's truck and Maggie wiped the rain from the driver's side window with her hand and peeked inside. She looked around in the cab and raised her eyebrows. There were empty energy drink and soda cans scattered on the floor in front of the passenger seat and a half eaten donut rested on the dashboard, darkening the surface below it with an oily stain. An opened can of Pepsi was on its side in the middle of a sticky brown puddle embedded with dead flies on the floor mat in front of the shifter.

"Wow," Andrea said as she swung the passenger door of the truck open and looked around. "What a mess. I didn't think Daryl would…" She stopped in mid sentence. Maybe Daryl wouldn't let his truck become such a mess; but Merle just might.

Maggie looked into the truck bed. There were four bales of hay in the bed of the truck and two miserable, wet chickens clucked unhappily as they peeked out through the wooden bars of a poultry crate.

"Merle! Maybe Merle is here!" Maggie exclaimed excitedly. Then she scowled. "Stealing our livestock again! Merle?!" she called out, "Merle Dixon, you sneaky thief, you get out here right now!"

Andrea glared at Maggie and put a finger in front of her lips. "Shhhh!" she hissed. "You'll call in a bunch of walkers!"

She was answered by a clap of thunder.

"You think they'll hear me over that?" Maggie asked.

They both heard a loud 'thunk' noise come from inside the barn and Maggie marched over to the double doors with Andrea right behind her. She flung open one of the doors and both of the soaking wet women stepped inside.

"Merle? Daryl?" Maggie managed to call out before the business end of a rifle was shoved under her nose. She reached for her Glock and the tall man with the shaved head standing in front of her with the rifle pointed at her kicked her in the stomach, hard. She heard Andrea's Ladysmith go off as she flew backward and fell onto her back. Maggie clutched at her belly as she rolled to her side, gasping to catch her breath.

"Don't move or I'll blow that pretty little head of yours off," Tall Shaved Head growled.

Maggie coughed and groaned as she held her stomach and desperately resisted the urge to puke her guts out.

Andrea's Ladysmith fired again and Maggie heard a loud crack as the bullet impacted one of the thick, wooden support beams before she heard a smack and Andrea cried out in pain.

"What the fuck is this, the Annie Oakley club?" said the other man now holding a Savage double-barreled shotgun on Andrea. He pushed a long lock of light reddish blond hair aside as his hazel eyes moved from Maggie and then back to Andrea. He wasn't as big or as tall as the man holding Maggie at gunpoint and Maggie noticed that he looked as scared as Andrea did.

Maggie took a deep breath.

"Get up! Get up and keep your hands where I can see them!" Tall Shaved Head ordered.

Maggie did as she was told and the man reached over and yanked her Glock from her waistband. "Don't you dare go for that knife either," he warned her.

"You," Shaggy Strawberry Blond Guy said as he jabbed the end of his shotgun at Andrea. "On your feet and no funny stuff!"

Andrea and Maggie both stood up and raised their hands as if in surrender.

"Now we all got off to a bad start here." Tall Shaved Head said, trying to sound friendly. "I don't usually tend to be so rude to women folk, but nowadays everyone is out to get everyone else. It's kill or be killed; survival of the fittest, you know."

"We didn't come here to kill anyone and you're robbing my family's farm." Maggie said angrily.

"Doesn't look like no one is stayin' here to me. Where did y'all come from? Are you camped out very far from here? Are there other folks with you?"

Maggie shut her mouth and looked at the ground.

Tall Shaved Head smiled. "My name's Paul Morey," he said. "and this here is Lenny Jackson," Morey motioned to the strawberry blond man with his gun trained on Andrea.

Lenny kept glancing over at Maggie while Morey made the introductions and finally he exclaimed, "You were in Woodbury! You're the girl who was hanging out with Haley on the library lawn!"

Morey cut in,"Well isn't that special! You're the gal Merle brought to visit. I heard you callin' out for Merle a moment ago and who else? Daryl? That what Merle's brother's name was?"

Maggie didn't answer.

"If you've been to Woodbury, you know what a great place it is and if you were there as Merle's guest then you know he's highly thought of and well-respected there. I don't know if he told you, but there was a misunderstanding that took place involving his brother and well, Merle was pretty upset and he was going to take a few days off and get out-of-town. Do some camping and gettin' back to nature sort of stuff, his way of grieving, I guess. Unfortunately, he left with a lot of stuff he wasn't supposed to take and so me an' Jackson here are out lookin' for him. Is he stayin' with you ladies?"

Maggie and Andrea both said, "No," at the same time. Morey caught the look of disdain on Andrea's face when he mentioned Merle's name and she all but spat, "no" in answer to his question. Apparently she wasn't any too fond of Merle Dixon. He gave her a wide, toothy grin.

"I don't know where Merle is." Maggie said. "or Daryl. I thought Merle might be here because I caught him here stealing our stuff before. That's how we met up."

Faint growling and moaning noises drifted into the barn from behind the double doors and Maggie turned to look at the doors nervously and then turned back to Morey.

"Sounds like we got us some biters out there." Morey said as he looked past Maggie and at the doors. He brought his eyes back to rest on Maggie and he motioned towards her with his head. "Go close that door tight and make sure it will stay closed." he said.

Maggie turned and looked at the door. The growls and snarls had gotten louder and now scratching noises could be heard over the sound of falling rain.

Morey motioned to Andrea with his rifle. "You, Blondie. You help her." He ordered.

Maggie and Andrea both moved towards the barn door. As Maggie reached out to completely close the door, it suddenly swung open as the walkers pushed against it and they started to spill into the barn.

Maggie shrieked and jumped backwards, barely avoiding the clawing and grasping hand of what used to be a large man dressed in tattered overalls. Her right hand flew to the hunting knife she wore and in a second it was in her hand and then it was buried to the hilt in the walker's right ear. Putrid black blood gushed from the wound as Maggie yanked the knife away and the walker collapsed at her feet. She jumped back a step as more of the glibbering and snarling walkers poured through the doorway and into the barn. Maggie drove her knife into the rotted cheek of the next walker and it fell. She whipped her head around and shouted to Morey and Jackson, "Help us! Please, a little help here!"

Jackson looked at Morey and started to raise the shotgun.

"I ain't wastin' none of my bullets for either of you!" Morey yelled And he motioned for Jackson to lower his gun.

Jackson had to do as Morey said and he slowly lowered the shotgun.

Andrea reached for her Ladysmith but she had been disarmed and she quickly scrambled backward as the walkers came at her. She lost her footing on the smooth century old wooden floor of the barn and fell on her butt. A pair of female walkers was on her in a second. She kicked the one grabbing for her in the ribs and heard a sickening 'crack' as the walker fell back away from her. The other one grabbed her hair and opened its mouth, baring it's green black teeth and further splitting it's pus encrusted lips as it lunged for her face. Andrea screamed as she tried to pull away from the monster that was determined to eat her. The walker suddenly released her and she saw a flash as the blade that protruded from the walker's nose only inches from her face disappeared back into the walker's head where it had entered from the back. A rough hand grabbed her by her arm and hauled her to her feet. "You bit, woman?" a gravely voice said. Andrea was in a daze.

"_Are ya bit, dammit_!?" the voice yelled.

Andrea shook her head vigorously. "No," she gasped. "No, I wasn't bitten."

Merle gave her a big, learing grin and said, "That's good to hear, Sugar Tits. Now stay behind me. I'll keep ya safe."

All hell had broken loose and Merle jumped and dodged as he slid the bayonet that had replaced his right hand into skull after skull of the surging crowd of the hungry dead as they sought to feed. He looked over at Maggie and was pleased to see that the Spitfire had things as well under control as she could. He couldn't help watching for a few seconds as she brandished Daryl's knife, slicing through walker heads like they were butter and spattering blood and brain matter in all directions. Hell, the girl used the knife almost as well as its previous owner had. Merle looked back at Andrea and slowly backed up, herding her towards a ladder that led to the hayloft.

Shots rang out as Morey began to fire Maggie's Glock at the undead. Jackson watched Morey for a second and then began to fire Andrea's Ladysmith at the shambling and reaching monsters. Hell, if Morey thought it was a good idea to shoot the bastards then he was all for it.

"_No_!" Merle shouted. "You're gonna bring even more of 'em in that way!" He swung his arm and was hit with a shower of bloody goo as the top half of a walker's head flew through the air and landed with a wet 'splat' near Morey's feet. Merle took a quick look around and then turned to Andrea. "Up the ladder, Sweet Cheeks," he said.

A shot rang out and the ladder rung right above Andrea's head shattered and rained splinters upon her head as the bullet hit it. "You stay where you are!" Morey shouted.

Maggie had made her way back to the barn door and she pushed it shut, smashing the head of an elderly female walker between the door and the casing. She slid two two by fours into the brackets used to barricade the door and keep it from opening and tried to wiggle it to make sure it was firmly in place. It was.

There were now six walkers left in the barn and Morey and Jackson unloaded the clips in the Glock and the Ladysmith putting them down.

Morey then slid the rifle off his shoulder and pointed it at Merle. "You're just the guy we came looking for!" Morey said with a smile.

"You don't say." Merle said and he gave Morey a smarmy, mock look of surprise. "I thought I was told that I could take a little vacation. You guys already fuck things up so bad that I already gotta get back to work?" Merle looked directly at Morey and his smile appeared. "By the way, Morey, how was gate duty?"

The smile left Morey's face. "Merle, you're in big trouble. When you left you took everything we'd brought in yesterday morning. The governor is furious with you."

Merle scratched his chin as he stood in front of Andrea. "Well now, I don't know why ol' Phillip would have his panties in a bunch. He told me I could go through my brother's things and take what I wanted. I just decided I wanted _all_ of his things." He narrowed his eyes at Morey and took a step towards him. Morey flinched, even though he was the one holding the rifle. He had always found Merle Dixon to be intimidating, even if he was bigger than Merle. "You and me, Morey. We have unfinished business. Yes, we do."

"I didn't know he was your brother." Morey whined.

Maggie raised her eyebrows. Had something happened since yesterday? Or was Merle just playing Morey? "Where is Daryl?" Maggie asked.

Morey turned to look at her and he grinned. "He's dead. Now drop the knife, pretty," he said.

Maggie held the knife tightly in her hand.

"Drop the knife now or I'll shoot Blondie over there." Morey said.

Andrea's eyes widened as Morey pointed the rifle in her direction. They widened even more when Merle Dixon backed up and stepped in front of her, placing himself between her and Morey's gun.

Maggie sighed and said, "No, dont! Look, I'm dropping it," and she dropped the knife.

"Good, there's a good girl. Now move ten feet to your right, away from it and do it now. I'm getting impatient with you people and when I get impatient my trigger finger starts to itch."

Merle snorted. He couldn't help it. Morey shot him an angry look and Merle shrugged.

Morey looked back at Maggie and Maggie moved about ten feet to her right, away from the knife on the floor.

"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" Morey said softly. "I haven't seen anything quite so pretty as you are in a long time."

Maggie felt goose bumps pop up on her arms. This man was creepy and he was starting to make her very nervous.

Morey looked over to where Andrea was peeking out from behind Merle. "And you, Blondie. You're downright gorgeous. Even with those scratches on your face. Hell, they just make you look even hotter. I'll bet you're an animal in the sack, aren't you, Blondie?" Morey held the gun on Merle and took a couple of steps toward where Merle stood in front of Andrea.

Morey grinned at Merle. "Tell you what, Merle. You just step on out of here. Get in your truck and go and I won't say we even saw you. Just leave these two pretty little things here with us and you can be on your way. Now how does that sound to you?"

Merle chuckled. "Sounds to me like you're a pathetic piece a shit and I ain't goin' nowhere."

The grin left Morey's face. "Jackson," he barked, "cover him. If he makes one move towards me, shoot the bastard."

Jackson looked at Merle with wide eyes and then looked back at Morey. Jackson had always liked Merle and looked up to him and he was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable with this whole situation. "What…what are you gonna do?" he asked Morey.

"I'm just going to have a little fun." Morey said and he trained his rifle on Maggie and walked toward her. He stopped when he was about ten feet from her and looked her up and down.

Maggie blushed. She knew very well that Morey had just undressed her with his eyes. Her stomach began to roll and she didn't think it had anything to do with the fact that he'd kicked her in it a bit earlier.

The rain outside was falling harder now and the walkers outside the door moaned and gurgled and banged and scratched at the large wooden doors. Thunder rumbled and the walkers moaned louder as if in response.

"Why don't you take that shirt off, pretty?" Morey said softly.

Maggie's eyes got wide. "My….my shirt?"

"Did I stutter?" Morey asked sharply.

Maggie shook her head. "no, no, you didn't."

"So take off your shirt. Now."

Maggie unbuttoned the sage green short sleeved cotton shirt she was wearing and slid out of it. She folded it and sat it on the floor next to her and then folded her arms in front of her.

Morey was disappointed. He hadn't known that the girl was wearing a white tank top beneath the green shirt. "Well, that wasn't very productive." he said. "Now take the undershirt off.

"Oh come on, Morey," Merle snarled. "Leave the girl alone."

Morey pointed a finger in Merle's direction, his eyes never leaving Maggie. "Merle, you shut your mouth or you're gonna have so many holes in you you'll be leaking like a sieve." Morey warned. "Now pretty girl, take off your undershirt. Don't make me ask again or I'll shoot your friend Blondie's thumbs off."

Jackson's eyes got big and he looked over at Morey and then back at Merle. Merle raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Jackson was getting worried. What the hell was wrong with Morey?

Maggie swallowed and bit her lower lip. She pulled her tank top off over her head and dropped it on the floor next to her. She was wearing a lacy pale lavender bra and she blushed again when Morey whistled.

"Look at that pretty bra! Now that is just such a pretty and such a sexy piece of clothing! Do you have panties that match it? Good Lord, are you wearing matching panties?"

Maggie didn't answer him and she jumped when he turned quickly and fired the rifle in the direction where Andrea still stood behind Merle. The bullet hit the floor two feet in front of Merle's booted foot. Andrea yelped and grabbed onto Merle's left arm and clung to it. Merle never even flinched.

Morey scowled at Maggie. "I asked you a _question_!" he snarled. "Now answer me!"

Maggie swallowed. "I'm…I'm sorry. I thought it was a…rhetorical question. Yes, yes I am wearing the matching underpants." she said nervously.

Morey's eyes lit up and he smiled. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it. Speaking of hard…"

"For fuck's sake! No one wants to hear that, you disgusting sack of guts." Merle snapped.

The rifle went off again and the bullet hole in the floor was only five inches from Merle's right foot this time. "Merle," hissed Andrea, "you have to keep quiet or he's going to kill you."

"Oh, he's plannin' on doin' that anyway." Merle said and he sounded downright grumpy.

Maggie looked over to where Merle stood with Andrea. Merle stared at the floor while Andrea looked at Maggie with sad and frightened eyes.

"Are you going to behave, Merle?" Morey asked.

Merle looked off to his right and didn't speak.

Morey turned back to Maggie and licked his lips. "Okay, girl, lets see those matching panties."

Maggie unbuckled her belt and slid her jeans down over her hips and let them fall to her feet. She stepped out of them and closed her eyes.

Morey smiled and then gave Maggie an appreciative wolf whistle. "What a cute little set of matching bra and panties. I must admit that although I was hoping that you were wearing a thong, those are still very sexy."

He walked toward her and Maggie looked around as if trying to map out a quick escape route. She backed up until she was pressed against the wall behind her and Morey stopped about two feet from her.

He reached out and grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the wall as he leaned into her and pressed himself against her. "So how long has it been since you've had a _real_ man?" he said and he licked his lips.

Morey heard a sound like rushing air and then a 'thwap' as pain exploded just below his right shoulder-blade . Maggie brought her right knee up just then and drove it into Morey's groin as hard as she could. Morey screamed and went down on his knees, and something hit him from behind. Now he was on the floor on his stomach and he felt a weight pressing against his back. He felt a hand on the back of his head and a second later his head was slammed into the floor, breaking his nose. His head was rammed into the floor a second time as blood gushed from his nose and then a hand was holding his head down against the smooth wooden floor.

"It ain't nice to torture people by makin' 'em look at that butt-ugly face of yours." a gruff voice said in his ear.

Morey's hands feebley grasped for his rifle but it had fallen out of his grip when the girl had kneed him in the crotch. The impact of his head with the floor had made him dizzy and he suddenly found himself being hauled to his feet. His back was shoved against the wall and then he was looking into the eyes of his attacker. Those blue eyes. He knew there had been something familiar about the bastard when he first laid eyes on him at Fort Benning. He and his brother both had unusually vivid blue eyes.

"You're not...dead?" Morey mumbled. His chest felt like it was on fire. He coughed and was mildly alarmed to find that he could taste blood. Morey took a deep gurgling breath and gasped as a jolt of pain ripped through his chest and he realized that the arrow the bastard had fired into him had hit his lung.

"Payback's a bitch." the bastard said to him and then the son of a bitch spit in his face for the _third time_. Morey's head was spinning and he felt several pairs of hands on him and then he was being shoved through the barn door out into the rain. The hands of several biters reached out to welcome him.

Jackson handed the shotgun to Merle while he apologized profusely to him and to Andrea over the horrific sound of Morey's screams.

Merle slapped him on the back. "No hard feelings." he said jovially.

Jackson smiled. He had always liked Merle.

Daryl took a deep breath and turned to Maggie. She was standing in front of him in her underwear and he felt his cheeks redden as he swallowed hard. "You okay?" he asked.

Maggie was smiling through tear filled eyes. Daryl looked worse than ever and she could tell he'd taken quite a beating while he'd been a prisoner in Woodbury. To Maggie, he looked absolutely horrible and incredibly beautiful all at the same time. She was sure that she had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall behind her and nodded and said, "Yes. I am now. I'm okay now."

"Good," Daryl mumbled as he backed away from her. He stared at the floor and fidgeted as he ran his left hand down his bow strap, then he brought his eyes up and met Maggie's. He was dizzy, his head was killing him and he could barely stand but all of that faded into the background as he looked into her eyes. He stared at her for a second and then he surprised her by quickly stepping towards her and wrapping his strong arms around her. He pulled her close and she wrapped her arms tightly around him as he pushed all the doubts and reservations from his mind. He needed this. He needed _her_. He gently brushed his left thumb along her jaw line as his eyes locked with hers, their souls intertwining and meshing as they communicated their deep and overwhelming passion and need for one another in a profound and wordless language that only soul mates can understand. Daryl cupped Maggie's face in his hand, tilted her head and he kissed her like his life depended on it.


	22. Chapter 22

**Like a bad penny, Randy Quaid in Independence Day, or Aaaanold in Terminator 2, I'm back. I realize that I waaay over-shared when I originally wrote this intro, and I apologize for that and I've now edited it. I've done a lot of thinking and I've finally accepted the fact that I will never be completely happy with my writing. I've also come to terms with the fact that, after I swore I would NEVER, EVER, EVER write a romance, my non- romance story somehow turned into one. For those of you still reading, I thank you for your interest and you have no idea how much I appreciate the time you choose to spend reading something that I wrote! (You're all nuts!) You guys just totally blow my mind and I love you!**

Chapter 22

Daryl broke their kiss and took a deep breath as he held Maggie. He kissed her forehead and she tightened her grip on him and allowed herself a moment to weep tears of relief into his shoulder.

He whispered and murmured what he hoped were comforting words into her ear as he stroked her damp hair. "You're okay. I ain't gonna let no one hurt you, you're safe now. Everything's okay."

She nodded and continued to hold him close. "I thought…I thought I'd lost you." she said.

Daryl rubbed her back and shushed her. "Shhhhh, shhhhhhh," he murmured, "I'm here now, okay?"

Merle scowled and looked away. His little brother was making a fool of himself in front of everyone.

As if sensing his older brother's disapproval, Daryl suddenly pulled away from Maggie and backed up a couple of steps, his eyes locking briefly again with hers before he glanced in Merle's direction and then back at Maggie.

She could read the apology conveyed in Daryl's eyes and she smiled and gave him a slight nod as she wiped at her eyes. She understood. What had just happened between them was completely out of character for Daryl, but it was exactly what she had needed and apparently it was something that he had needed as well. Why else would he have thrown all of his concerns about Merle's and Andrea's reactions out the window and set upon her like Casanova?

Daryl glanced up and down Maggie's scantily clad body and then blushed again and dropped his eyes. He cleared his throat and said, "Umm...You prolly wanna put your… clothes on." and he turned and slowly started limping towards Merle who was now talking to Jackson.

* * *

Maggie watched him as she reached for her damp jeans. She bit her lower lip as she noticed he was limping and that beneath the mud and dirt on his feet he was barefoot. The new cuts and bruises to his face and the slow, stiff way he dragged his right leg as he approached his brother convinced her that he had taken a good deal of abuse at the hands of his captors. She decided right then and there that he was going back to the house with her and Andrea if she had to drag him there. Then her father was going to examine him and after that he wasn't going anywhere. Not if she could help it. Daryl belonged at the house and she would do whatever it took to keep him there.

* * *

"I'm so glad that you're alive!" Andrea squealed as she made a beeline towards Daryl. She had a big smile on her face and Daryl threw her an angry look that stopped her in her tracks. He still hadn't forgiven her for pulling her gun on him and he damned well wasn't going to pretend he was happy to see her when he wasn't. He saw her face fall and then she angled around him as she ran to embrace Maggie.

"I was so afraid for you!" she told Maggie as she hugged her and then helped her with her shirt.

Merle looked beyond Daryl at Andrea as she helped Maggie into her shirt. He had always thought Andrea was gorgeous and it was too damned bad that she was a snooty uppity bitch.

He turned back to Jackson and said, "So who sent you out and how did you end up here?"

* * *

Daryl was asleep in Merle's truck when Merle had parked it out behind the horse stables two hundred feet from the back of the barn. He had seen Daryl's truck and the truck Maggie and Glenn had been driving when he'd picked them up the day before parked in front of the barn. He knew that someone from Woodbury was there and that they had probably just met someone from Daryl's old group.

Merle had poked at Daryl a couple of times and once he was sure his brother was completely lost in a Fentanyl induced, deep sleep and wouldn't be waking up any time soon, he tucked a handgun into the waistband of his pants and slid his bayonet apparatus onto the prosthesis on his stump. After double checking to make sure he had the keys in his pocket, he tossed a sheet over Daryl and opened the windows a crack so they wouldn't get fogged up. "Be back soon, baby brother. You just sit tight. I'll be right back." he'd whispered.

Merle quietly stepped out into the rain and closed and locked the truck's doors. He could see the biters congregating around the front of the barn and only a couple of them were walking around the back, so he stayed low and jogged toward the back of the barn. He had to stop and place his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud when one of the biters slipped on the wet grass and fell with a moan against the biter in front of it, causing them both to topple to the ground. They both slipped and fell again while trying to stand up and Merle quietly jogged by them, muttering, "Morons," under his breath.

Merle heard voices as he flattened himself against the building near a hinged window. If he came through the back door he would be seen. He pulled the window open slowly and quietly and peeked inside. Merle glanced around quickly, making sure he was not in anyone's line of sight before he slid through the window and inside of the barn. He laid flat on the hay covered floor and listened to see if anyone might have heard or seen him. The voices coming from the front of the barn were louder now and Merle recognized them as Morey's and Jackson's voices. He peeked around a stack of baled hay that had yet to be transported to the loft above and he could see their backs and that they were both holding rifles or shotguns on Maggie and the uppity blonde with the nice tits. He had stayed quiet and was going to surprise Morey and Jackson but then the damned biters started pouring into the barn. Merle watched the women fight them off and then he heard Morey yell that he wasn't wasting bullets to help the girls and Merle found himself running to save the blonde bitch like he was some sort of pussy-whipped idiot.

* * *

Daryl was pulled from his deep slumber by the sounds of several gunshots. It took him almost half a minute to clear his head after he'd sat up and then another few seconds to figure out where he was and that Merle wasn't there. He pulled off his left boot and sock after deciding it was best to be barefoot rather than to only have one boot on, then grabbed his crossbow and exited the truck. He made sure the truck doors were unlocked in case a quick getaway was in order. Daryl hobbled around the stable to the barn, taking out two walkers on his way and stopping to retrieve his bolts; slipping in the mud and nearly falling on his ass while retrieving the second one. He let himself in through the same window Merle had entered through and peeked around the corner of the stack of hay bales just in time to see Morey grab Maggie's wrists and pin them against the wall.

When Morey moved a bit and Daryl realized that Maggie was in her underwear and Morey was forcing himself on her it was all he could do to keep from bellowing with rage and running to defend her. No, he had to stay focused. If he ran to attack Morey, Morey could hurt Maggie before he reached him. Daryl took a deep breath, swung his crossbow into position and took aim. In a split second he assessed the angle and the trajectory of the bolt. The scope wasn't necessary at this range and his main concern was hitting the asshole and not hitting Maggie in the process. He wanted a headshot but went with the 'just below the shoulder blade' shot instead. Why let this piece of human filth die easy with a headshot? If he hit his target just right, it would puncture the asshole's lung.

He took the shot and then bolted from his hiding place and ran, the adrenaline coursing through him pushing him to ignore the searing pain in his right ankle and the pounding in his head. He saw Maggie's eyes open wide with surprise as he threw himself onto Morey's back and her expression alone had been worth any pain he'd ever suffered.

* * *

It was over now and his adrenaline rush had subsided. Daryl was feeling every bit of the pain coursing through his battered body. Shit, his eyes even hurt, but Maggie was safe and that was all that mattered. The asshole who had helped beat the shit out of him and had hurt Maggie was gone and had been reduced to walker chow. (Now in lip-smacking, new "Big Asshole" flavor! Walkers love it!) The brain fart brought a lazy smile to his lips. Now if only he could find a nice quiet place to lie down and sleep for a few hours or days or weeks.

"Daryl!" Merle called as Daryl stumbled in his direction.

Daryl had always thought it was funny that when Merle actually used his name instead of calling him 'Darleena' or 'Dumbass' or one of several other terms of endearment, it always came out sounding like 'Derle'; as if Merle thought their names were supposed to rhyme or something.

Merle looked at Daryl and motioned to Jackson. "This guy here responsible for any of your damages?"

Jackson's eyes widened and the smile he'd had on his face evaporated.

The room started to spin and Daryl stopped and leaned against a support beam and closed his eyes. "No," he mumbled. "He didn't do nothin'. Was the other….fucker." He could feel his equilibrium shifting and he wrapped an arm around the beam to hold himself steady. Shit, no. He couldn't do this, not now. Not in front of Maggie and Andrea and Merle. He took a deep breath and tried to fight the dizziness and the fog filling his head. The sound of the rain and the hushed voices of Andrea and Maggie suddenly disappeared and were replaced by a ringing in his ears. He could barely hear Merle shouting from what seemed to be a mile away. He squinted his eyes, trying to zero in on Merle but everything was foggy and swirling in front of him.

* * *

Merle saw Daryl's eyes roll as he clung to the support beam and he knew that Daryl was going to go down. He jumped forward and grabbed Daryl, pinning him against the beam. Daryl opened his eyes and Merle saw the fog in them clear for a second as he looked into the blue eyes that matched his own. "Mm sorry, Merle," Daryl mumbled and his eyes blinked and then closed before he leaned forward into his older brother. Merle held Daryl against him and was carefully lowering his brother to the floor when Maggie and Andrea appeared beside him.

"Back off, I got 'im," Merle barked.

Merle shook Daryl's shoulder as Maggie knelt beside him. "What happened?" she asked as she reached out to caress Daryl's cheek.

"Is he okay?" Andrea asked.

Merle sighed, Daryl hadn't responded to being shaken, but that didn't surprise him at all. "Fentanyl probably caught up with him. He was sleepin' like a baby in the truck fifteen, twenty minutes ago. I was as surprised to see him come in here as anyone. It's some pretty powerful stuff."

Maggie's mouth dropped open and she blinked in surprise. "Merle!" she yelled, "You can't give Fentanyl to someone with a head injury!"

"Why the hell not?!" Merle roared. "He was havin' some awful headaches and the Fen takes care a the pain and makes him sleep! He needs to sleep, dammit! That's the only thing that's gonna help him to clear up and heal that damned messed up head of his! Don't cha know nothin'?"

Maggie carefully lifted Daryl's eyelids and peered at his glassy blue eyes. "Look at this, his pupils aren't evenly dilated! How much Fen has he had today, Merle?"

"'Course his eyes ain't right," Merle snorted, "Fuckin' Morey kicked him in the head! Merle sighed and patted Maggie's shoulder. "Now look, sweet cheeks, I know you're tryin' to be helpful and all, but I've been takin' care a my brother here since probably before you was born and I know what he needs better 'n you do. This ain't the first time he's taken a hit to his head. I've been through this with him before, so back the fuck off."

Maggie glared at Merle and lifted Daryl's wrist to check his pulse.

Merle saw what she was doing and rolled his eyes. "Oh good Lord, he just passed out! He ain't dead or nothin'."

"No thanks to you." Maggie snapped.

"Yeah, thanks to me." Merle grumped. "Your boyfriend here would a been biter food if it weren't for me."

Andrea wrung her hands and shifted from one foot to the other as she stood behind Merle. "Don't you think we should stop with the arguing and get out of here?" she asked.

* * *

Lenny Jackson watched as Merle and the two women hovered over Merle's injured brother. The woman he had decided was the brother's girlfriend was giving Merle hell. Lenny watched them argue for a few seconds, then looked away. He had bigger problems to deal with. He was worried about his chances of getting out of the barn alive and he nervously looked around for an easily accessible door or window. Leonard Jackson's momma hadn't raised any fools. Lenny knew damned well that there was no way in hell that Merle was going to let him go back to Woodbury after he'd seen that Merle's brother was still alive and now Merle was traveling with him. The way Lenny saw it, Merle had two options.

Option 1. Merle could take Lenny with him and his brother on their journey to wherever it was they planned to go, or

Option 2. Merle could kill him.

Option 2 appeared to be the logical choice. Merle Dixon certainly wouldn't want another mouth to feed and another person taking up space in his truck on his trip, would he?

Lenny started inching his way toward a solid wooden door to his right. The truck he and Morey had arrived in was parked in front of the barn where the biters had come through one of the large double doors just a short time ago. If he made it out the side door, he would have to run to the front of the barn and get around the biters to get to the truck. He patted his right front pocket. Yup. The keys were still there. Thank God he had driven today and the keys hadn't ended up in Morey's pocket. Lenny Jackson bit his lower lip. Morey was a big guy. Depending on how many biters were outside, it might take them a while to completely devour him and he might be able to sneak by them to the truck as they gorged on his deceased friend. He inched over bit further.

"And just where do you think you're goin'?" Merle's voice boomed, tearing Lenny from his thoughts of escape. "You weren't thinkin' of runnin' out on our little party here, were you? 'Course you weren't. That ain't polite."

Lenny started to fall apart. "Merle, please, just let me go. I won't say a thing. I won't tell anyone I saw you or your brother. I'll say that Morey and me got mixed up with some biters while we were stopped at a house getting supplies and that they got Morey. Please, don't kill me, Merle. I didn't do anything to your brother. He even told you that himself. I've always done right by you, haven't I?"

Merle raised his eyebrows. He gave Lenny a shrug. "Well, shit, Jackson, what the hell else can I do in these circumstances? I can't very well let you go back knowin' whatcha know and to be honest, I can throw you a helluva lot further than I trust you."

"Then take me with you, or drop me off somewhere far from here with some supplies! I don't want to die! I'll do anything you say, go anywhere you want! Just please, don't kill me!"

The man was almost crying and Merle found his pussy-wussy behavior to be quite disturbing and a little bit disgusting. A _real_ man would face impending death with dignity. "Okay, tell you what," Merle said as he scratched his chin, "My truck is parked out back a this barn up behind the stables. You help me get my brother here out to my truck and you can be on your way."

* * *

"I'll help you with him," Maggie said quickly.

"No, me an' Jackson, we've got it. Ain't that right, Jackson?"

Jackson looked at Merle and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we got it."

"So get your ass on over here and help me." Merle snapped.

Jackson walked quickly over to Merle and stood next to him, awaiting further instructions.

"We came for goat supplies." Andrea said, putting her hand on Maggie's shoulder. "Why don't you show me where they are and we can get going, too."

"Just a minute," Maggie said and she stepped in front of Merle with her hands on her hips. "Just where do you think you're taking Daryl?" she demanded.

Merle grinned at her. "I'm takin' him to a doctor and a place he'll be safe so he can get the rest he needs. I was kind of hopin' you could help me out with that."

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head. "Really? You're serious?"

Merle nodded. "Damn straight. I ain't no doctor and he needs help. Help I can't give 'im. So, yeah, I'm serious. He needs to see your dad and the sooner the better."

Maggie felt a rush of relief. "Thank you." she said and she surprised Merle by stepping forward and quickly embracing him. She surprised him even more when she released him from the hug and her hand connected with his cheek with a loud and stinging 'smack'. "That's for telling me he was dead, you big…you big…._jerk_!" She turned to Andrea. "Come on, I'll show you were the pails and the bottles are." she said.

Merle stood with his mouth open hardly believing what had just happened. The Spitfire had hugged him and then slapped him! Her behavior was totally unacceptable. If she planned on spending much time with Daryl, they would have to have a little talk later. A smile slowly spread across his face.

Andrea looked at Merle and shrugged and followed Maggie around the pile of hay bales.

Jackson had been standing near Merle waiting for his instructions and successfully repressed the smile that threatened when Merle's face had been slapped by his younger brother's girlfriend.

"Okay. Let's get him up and outa here," Merle said as he hauled Daryl into a sitting position. He draped his brother's left arm around the back of his neck and grasped Daryl's left wrist with his left hand.

Jackson lifted Daryl's right arm and ducked his head beneath it and grasped Daryl's right wrist.

Merle cringed slightly as his fingers slid over the broken skin and fresh scabs that the handcuffs had left on his brother's wrist.

* * *

Daryl groaned as the two men stood, hoisting him up by his arms. He lifted his head as he felt himself being moved forward and his feet dragged along the barn floor. "I…"he started. Everything was spinning and he dropped his head. He swallowed and pushed back the nausea that had arrived with the dizziness. Confusion settled in. Where was he? Merle was carrying him. Merle and someone else. He knew it was Merle on his left because he recognized the sounds of Merle's slightly labored breath and he could smell the faint scent of the Old Spice deodorant Merle always used. Daryl's mind was spinning. Why did his head hurt so damned much? Where the hell was he? Maggie. He had seen Maggie. Had he been dreaming? He weakly raised his head and mumbled, "Merle..I can…," his head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds and he failed to finish what he was trying to say. He dropped his head again and was quiet for a few seconds and then started to speak. "I can.." he said as he tried to raise his head again.

"No, you can't." Merle snapped. "You just let ol' Merle take care a gettin' you to the truck, then you can tell me all about what you can do."

Daryl's mind swirled and he heard Andrea and Maggie's voices and then Merle was speaking to them. Daryl raised his head and his wandering eyes met Andrea's for a second before continuing to wander and then he dropped his incredibly heavy head yet again.

"Daryl's awake?" Andrea asked after his drifting eyes stopped for a second and met her gaze before moving away from her.

"He's goin' in and out." Merle explained and Andrea saw Daryl's head drop.

Merle adjusted Daryl's arm. "Now our best bet is to get to my truck and we can all leave in that. Well, all of us except for Jackson. He's gotta find his own way outa here. There's room for the shit you just collected if you can pull back the tarp on the truck bed right quick and throw it in there. Otherwise one a ya will have to ride on the roof."

Maggie was holding a crate of glass bottles and had slid the handles of two metal pails over her arm and Andrea was holding a sleeve of caps and two small wooden stools. They both nodded. Maggie had already decided that she was riding in whatever vehicle Daryl was going to be in and that was non-negotiable. Merle's plan sounded fine to her.

Jackson shifted under Daryl's shared weight and Merle threw him an annoyed glare. Hell, if Daryl weighed 150 now he was lucky, Merle thought. Was Jackson that much of a weakling? Merle turned back to the women "Sugar.. Blondie, you're gonna drive. Jackson will help me get Daryl into the back seat and you, Spitfire, you can cuddle with him back there on our way to see your daddy."

Maggie bit her lower lip and her cheeks flushed.

"Now we gotta be fast and we gotta be quiet. I'm hopin' the biters are still out front havin' lunch, but there might be some out around the back. If there are, I'll do my best to deal with 'em."

"No," Andrea said. "You've got Daryl and you need to get him to the truck. Maggie and I will cover you." She looked at Maggie. "Right?"

"Right." Maggie said.

"Carryin' all that stuff?" Merle asked.

"We can drop it if we have to." Maggie replied. "You don't have that option."

Merle nodded. "Okay, you cover us."

They quietly moved toward the rear door in the barn and Andrea slowly opened the door and peeked out through the rain. She looked both left and right and then up to the stable. There was one rotting male walker shuffling towards the barn from the direction of the stables. Its lower legs had been reduced to bare bones with minimal muscle tissue attached so it stumbled and shuffled slowly on its weakened limbs.

Andrea turned back to where the others were anxiously waiting and nodded. "Let's go." she said. Merle and Jackson came out first and started sprinting up the hill toward the stables, dragging Daryl between them.

Maggie and Andrea followed close behind.

As they rounded the stables they all came to an abrupt halt. There was a group of seven walkers around the truck, three of them pressed up against the windows as if looking to see if there was anything inside worth breaking in to eat.

"This is just great." Jackson groaned as they all pressed up against the stable wall.

Merle looked over at Jackson and then at the walkers around his truck sixty feet away and then at Jackson again. "Your truck is out in front of the barn, right?" he whispered.

"Yeah. It is." Jackson answered, looking at Merle nervously.

"Okay, well you're free to go now." Merle whispered to him with a smile.

"What?" Jackson looked at Merle like he'd lost his mind.

"Your services are no longer required. Just hightail it to your truck and leave." Merle whispered louder, his smile widening.

"But if I take off running down the hill, they'll follow me and... Oh…I see." Jackson looked at Merle with wide eyes as he figured out Merle's plan to use him to get the walkers away from the truck. He looked past Merle at the women standing against the stable wall behind him, hoping against hope for some support from both or either of them.

Maggie and Andrea stared back at him but remained quiet. They had been listening to Merle talking to Jackson and neither of them had any qualms about using Jackson as walker bait.

Merle pulled Daryl against him and motioned for Jackson to let go of his brother. "I can take him." he whispered.

Jackson gave Merle a worried look and released his grip on Daryl. Merle bent low and hoisted Daryl up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry position. "Shit, he don't weigh nothin'," he said with a grin to Jackson. "You got your keys handy?" Merle asked.

"Um, yeah, but…"

"So go." Merle said. "Now!" he shouted and he planted his foot in Jackson's ass and shoved him away from the stable wall as hard as he could before darting around the corner behind Maggie and Andrea and out of the walkers' sight.

* * *

Jackson yelled in pain and surprise as he stumbled away from Merle, his arms wind milling in a futile attempt to keep from falling. He fell on the wet grass and then scrambled to his feet, cursing and yelling and holding his rear.

The walkers around the truck all looked in his direction and started toward him, moaning and snarling as they slid and slipped through the tall, wet grass.

Jackson started to run down the hill. He turned to look behind him and tripped over a large rock hidden in the grass which sent him head over heels and he landed on his face. He spit grass out of his mouth and looked behind him to see how close the biters were. He was getting to his feet when he heard a deep throaty snarl. He turned around and the walker with the boney lower legs was less than five feet from him. He screamed and stumbled away from it, landing on his butt and then scrambling to his feet again.

* * *

Maggie made it to the truck before Merle did and shoved the tarp on the truck bed aside. She dumped her buckets and the crate of bottles into the truck quickly and then swung the back passenger door of the truck open. She jumped inside and she moved the guitar off the seat and onto the floor and gathered up the pillows on the seat before scooting against the door on the opposite side. Merle bent down into the open doorway and slid Daryl off his shoulders and onto the seat and Maggie grabbed him under his arms and pulled him towards her.

Andrea had jumped into the driver's seat and Merle tossed her the keys. She caught them and started the truck . Merle pushed Daryl's feet up onto the seat and slammed the truck's back door. He jumped into the passenger seat and closed the door as Andrea hit the defogger and stepped on the gas.

Merle looked down the hill towards the barn just in time to see Jackson disappear around the corner.

The truck barreled down off the hill and fishtailed as it hit the driveway. Andrea stepped on the gas and roared over two walkers that were ambling up the driveway towards the house and Merle whooped as the truck bumped over them. "Now this gal knows how to drive a truck!" he hollered.

Andrea laughed and Merle patted her shoulder with his left hand. "Let's see if you can run down a couple more." he said with a grin.

"You like that?" Andrea asked.

Maggie held Daryl's head in her lap and ran a finger through his damp hair and then down the side of his face. She gently traced his eyebrows and then brushed her finger across the sparse mustache above his broken lips. She smiled as she feathered her fingers across his face, intent on memorizing it with her sense of touch. She was so relieved and so happy. She had feared that she would never see Daryl again and here he was and they were going home.

"I used to hate it when people used to step out into the street in front of me when they weren't on a crosswalk." Andrea was saying to Merle. "I used to wish I could just run them over. Now I can."

Merle laughed a hearty laugh and Andrea laughed with him; then Merle was saying, '"Wait, is that one up ahead? Ten points if you can knock it outta its shoes!"

Maggie looked out the window into the rain and smiled.

**Coming up in the next episode: Merle and Rick come face to face! Crazy Carol has a plan! Stay tuned! Same bat time, same bat channel!**


	23. Chapter 23

Rick sat in the rocking chair on the back porch and peered out through the rain towards the driveway. He had been sitting there for the last half hour, mentally kicking himself for allowing Maggie and Andrea to set out on their own for Woodbury. He knew that Maggie was hell-bent on going, and there was no point on trying to talk her out of it, but he should have at least gone with her or sent Glenn or Dale along. Glenn had filled him in on Merle Dixon's propensity to sexually harass Andrea when he'd been part of the group and Rick worried that things could get ugly and downright dangerous when the two women met up with the older Dixon brother.

The porch door opened and Glenn stepped out onto the porch. "You wanted to see me?" he asked as he walked over to where Rick sat and rocked.

Rick raised his eyebrows. "I did?"

Glenn looked confused. He pointed back towards the kitchen door and said, "You didn't tell Carl that you wanted to see me?"

Rick raised his eyebrows. "You didn't happen to be hanging out with Beth when he told you this, did you?"

"Yeah, we were playing a video game in the game room and Carl came rushing in and said you needed to see me right away and that he'd take over for me so the game Beth and I were playing wouldn't be interrupted."

Rick sighed. He knew that Carl had a crush on the youngest Greene daughter but Rick was surprised that Carl would stoop to devious behavior in order to bump what he probably saw as "the competition" out of the way for a while. He was going to have to sit down with Carl and have a little talk. "It looks like my son concocted a story to steal some time alone with Beth." Rick told Glenn. "I'm sorry about that."

Glenn grinned; so he hadn't been imagining the dirty looks Carl had been throwing his way lately. He laughed. "I _told_ you Carl was crushing on Beth!" He sat down on the bench next to the where Rick sat in the rocking chair. "I'll admit that I was actually kind of relieved when Carl offered to play in my place" Glenn volunteered. "I can only take so much of 'Super Mario Galaxy' and that's all Beth wants to play."

"Rick stared out at the rain. "Yeah, but he still shouldn't have lied to you like that. I'll have a talk with him. It isn't your fault that Beth's been batting her eyes at you since you and Maggie decided to just be friends."

"Wha…what?" Glenn stuttered. "Beth? Batting her eyes at _me_?"

Rick leaned back in the rocking chair and turned his head to look at the younger man. "Oh come on. You haven't noticed how she's suddenly paying all sorts of attention to you? Sitting next to you at meals, offering to help you with the garden, asking you to teach her to play video games?"

"What?" Glenn was perplexed. "I just thought she was bored and…and.." he blew out a breath. "Wow, what, you think she likes me?"

"Carl apparently thinks she does. From her actions I'd agree with him."

Glenn smiled. "She is a very nice young lady and she certainly is pretty."

"Are you interested in her?" Rick asked.

Glenn thought Beth was cute, but he wouldn't dream about starting something up with her, at least not without talking to Hershel first. After all, he didn't think she was even eighteen yet. Glenn leaned back against the rough log wall behind him. "No, not really. I don't think I want to get into another relationship anytime soon and I certainly don't want to be on Carl's shit list." His last relationship didn't work out so well, he thought to himself, and Beth was still sort of dating Jimmy, wasn't she?

"Carl's too young to even be thinking about Beth as anything other than a friend," Rick said.

"When you were twelve, did you just think of girls as friends?" Glenn asked.

Rick rocked a little and then stopped and said, "You know, things have changed a lot since I was twelve. At that age I was into sports and building model cars and skate boarding. Girls were prissy and silly and had cooties. I didn't care about them at all."

"How old were you when that changed?" Glenn asked.

Rick smiled. "Twenty seven." he laughed quietly. "No, seriously, I was fifteen. I fell madly in love with the new girl at school that fall. Gabriella Donatelli. Her family had moved down from Pennsylvania. Yeah, she made me sit up and take notice. I finally got up the gumption to ask her to the homecoming dance and she was so sweet and gentle as she ripped my heart out and stomped it to pieces in front of me."

"What?" Glenn said with surprise. "She said 'no'?"

Rick leaned back in the rocker again, a smile playing across his lips and a far-away look in his eyes. "She already had a date," he said. His smile got bigger as he remembered. He could see Gabriella's big brown eyes and how she'd nervously pushed her thick, black hair back when she had kindly thanked him for the invitation but said she had already accepted someone else's. "With Shane," he finished.

Glenn burst out laughing and instantly regretted it, but Rick started laughing, too.

"I'm sorry, Rick," Glenn said, biting his lip to stop his laughter.

"That's exactly what Shane said," Rick laughed.

Glenn snorted and a burst of giggles exploded from him.

"In his defense, he had no idea I even liked her or that I was planning on asking her to the dance." Rick explained. He smiled again. "Shane ended up not taking her to the homecoming dance after all. During the homecoming football game he got tackled really hard. The other team's whole defense line was on top of him and he ended up with a broken leg."

Glenn raised his eyebrows expectantly. "So? Did you get to take the girl after all? What happened?"

Rick's smile widened. "What happened was that while I was at the dance boogying with the hottest girl in school, Shane was sitting in the hospital with his leg in traction."

Glenn burst into giggles again and Rick laughed with him.

"You know," Rick said once they both had settled down a bit, "Shane was my best friend. I loved him like a brother. This world, this new and dangerous world we live in now, it changed him."

Glenn nodded. He was going to say that it had changed all of them, but he decided it was best to say nothing at all.

* * *

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop the truck, Andi!" Merle ordered.

Andrea did what she was told and stopped the Dodge Ram near the tangle of vehicles and logs that had been cleared away by Shane and Carl a little over a week before.

Merle cussed under his breath and jumped out of the truck into the rain.

Andrea watched Merle and then turned around and said to Maggie. "Is Daryl awake yet? Because the shit is about to hit the fan."

Maggie put her head up against the window and wiped the fog from it. She could see Merle standing in the rain with his hand and the end of his stump on his head and she could actually hear him yelling and cussing through the window as he stood next to his beloved Triumph Bonneville.

"Great," she said. She looked down at Daryl. He was still out cold and as she ran a finger across his cheek a small stream of blood ran from his left nostril and down the side of his face. Maggie frowned and wiped the blood away with the bottom of her shirt. "Do you have your gun?" she asked Andrea.

"Yeah, I picked it up after we fed that jerk to the walkers. I've got yours, too." Andrea said as she watched Merle who was now pacing back and forth in the rain next to his motorcycle and loudly cussing up a storm.

"Could you hand mine back here, please?" Maggie asked.

Andrea reached into the console in front of the seat and pulled Maggie's Glock out of it and handed it back to her. "What do you want it for?"

Maggie carefully slid her left hand into her jeans pocket and pulled out a spare clip. "So I can threaten Merle with it when he storms back over here in a snit about his bike. You know he's going to be furious with Daryl for leaving it here," she said as she checked the safety and pushed the clip into the Glock.

Andrea looked down at Daryl and shook her head. "Look at him. He looks awful. Those guys at Woodbury must have beat the hell out of him. I feel so bad for him."

"Damn, Andrea, don't let him hear you say that. I think he hates being pitied more than just about anything."

Andrea looked at Maggie and gave her a half smile. "Except for being touched. Well, by anyone but you, I guess."

Maggie blushed.

"Besides'" Andrea added, still resting her gaze on Daryl, "I don't think he can hear anything right now."

The passenger door whipped open and Merle climbed into the truck and slammed the door. "Okay, let's go." he barked. Andrea shifted into 'drive' and started to maneuver the truck down the cleared out roadway through the vehicles and logs.

Everyone was quiet for a few minutes and then Merle turned toward the back seat and looked down at Daryl. He stared at his brother for a minute and then raised his eyes to meet Maggie's. "I sure hope your daddy can fix Derle here up."

"I'm sure Hershel will do his best, Merle." Andrea said as she drove, trying to intercept any smart remark Maggie might feel tempted to respond with.

Merle turned back around and looked out the window. "Good, 'cause as soon as he's back in fighting shape I'm gonna kick his ass but good for leavin' my bike like he did."

"You'll do no such thing!" Maggie snapped.

Andrea rolled her eyes.

"Look, darlin'," Merle said as he turned to face Maggie. "You need to keep that pretty little nose a yours outta our personal business. Your 'tiger' knew better than to just dump my bike on the side of the road like that. He knows what he's got comin' to him and he knows he deserves it. I ain't gonna lay a hand on him until he's all healed up so you just shut that mouth a yours and let him handle this when the time comes. You got it?"

Maggie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from starting an argument with Merle. He was mad and he was running off at the mouth and she fought her urge to poke the bear.

After a moment or two of tense silence, Merle turned to Andrea. "So what the hell had you people been doin' to my kid brother? Those stitches he's got here and there were there before he got to Woodbury. An' how the hell did he lose a finger?"

Andrea peeked into the rear view mirror at Maggie and Maggie gave her a slight nod.

"He didn't tell you about how he got the stitches?" she asked.

"He said somethin' about havin' surgery. I figured that was what the stitches in his side were all about. I noticed he's got an exit wound scar behind it. He get shot or something? Did Rick Grimes do that to my brother?"

"No. Rick has never done a thing to hurt Daryl," Andrea said.

"He damn well better not of. Derle said somethin' about havin' a run in with a military group. They the ones that messed him up?"

Andrea bit her bottom lip and then said, "Merle, just what did Daryl say had happened to him?"

Merle exploded. "He didn't tell me nothin'! Said he'd fill me in when his head wasn't doin' the boogaloo all over everywhere! That's why I'm askin' you what happened, dammit! You know he woke up at my place and he was totally freaking out? Didn't know where the hell he was or how he'd gotten there! He couldn't remember a damned thing! Morey really fucked him up when he kicked him in the head. Fuckin' bastard."

Andrea pulled the truck over brought it to a stop. They were about two miles from the turnoff onto Forest Lake Road.

"What are you stopping for? You need to take a run into the bushes?" Merle asked.

Andrea raised her eyebrows and shifted on the seat. "No…I don't need to take a run into the bushes. I just want to tell you a few things, you know…give you the lowdown, some information. Will you please let me get through what I have to say before you respond?"

Merle smirked. "Once a lawyer always a lawyer. Sure, you go right on ahead. I have a feelin' I ain't gonna like what you're gonna say, but we'll blow up that bridge when we get to it."

"Don't you mean 'we'll cross that bridge when we get to it'?" Andrea asked.

"No…I meant what I said. Now come on, we ain't got all day."

"Okay. First, the stitches in Daryl's head are there because of me." Andrea said as she leaned back into the driver's side door. She watched Merle carefully to see how he would react to this revelation.

"You did it or someone did it on your behalf? What, did he come after you or somethin'? Try to hurt you? Was he drunk?"

"No, no, no!" Andrea said throwing up her hands like she was surrendering. "and you were supposed to wait until I was done.."

"What, there's more?" Merle snorted. He narrowed his eyes at her like Daryl tended to do when he was angry or disgusted with her and Andrea was rendered speechless for a second when it hit her how identical to Daryl's the look of disdain on Merle's face was.

"We..we were being attacked by a military group. They wanted to kill all of us and take back the place where we're staying."

"Your house by the lake." Merle said.

Andrea and Maggie exchanged glances.

"Yes," Andrea said. "Our house by the lake. We heard over their radio that they'd shot and killed Daryl before they attacked us. They were all dressed in camouflage and wearing balaclavas over their heads. I was hiding in one of the rooms and one of them found me. Only it wasn't one of them, it was Daryl. He'd infiltrated the group of hostiles. He was wearing one of those balaclavas and before I knew it was him.."

"….you nailed him in the head with something." Merle finished for her. He smiled a big, wide Merle smile. "So it was a case of mistaken identity. Well shit, Sugar Tits, that's understandable. He's lucky you didn't slit his throat."

"I almost did and stop calling me that Merle, I hate that!"

"Old habits die hard, darlin'. Okay, so he'd already been nailed a good one in the head before he ever came to Woodbury. Good to know."

"There's more…" Andrea said, sheepishly.

"Well aint' that amazing. There's more. Alright. Let's hear it."

Andrea went on to tell Merle the whole story about the hostiles and how she hadn't been the only one to mistake Daryl for an enemy, and then she backtracked and told Merle about Daryl being impaled on one of his bolts while searching for Sophia and Shane's attempt to kill Daryl.

Maggie noticed that Andrea left out the part where she'd shot Daryl after mistaking him for a walker and she certainly wasn't going to volunteer the information.

Andrea then asked Maggie to tell Merle about how Daryl had lost his finger and Maggie explained the situation to him and how Daryl had saved her life and how he had cut off his own finger after half of it had been bitten off.

Merle stopped her when she started to tell him about Carol's attempt to shoot Daryl.

"Whoa. Ed's wife? The mouse? The quiet one with the butch-dyke haircut? She was gonna shoot Derle? What the hell for? I thought he spent a shit load of time lookin' for her girl! Weren't that what he was doin' when he got thrown off that horse and ended up in the ravine with a bolt stickin' outta him?!"

"Yes." Maggie said. "She's the one."

"What an ungrateful bitch!" Merle exclaimed.

Maggie couldn't help it. She giggled.

"She went sort of nuts, became delusional." Andrea explained. "She figured out that Daryl had been bitten and decided it was her duty to kill him before he turned, like her daughter had. She insisted that she had to do it because she cares so much for him."

"So Derle attracted hisself a nutjob. He never did have much luck with the ladies."

He turned back to Maggie and said, "They got her under control now? I ain't never been one for hurtin' womenfolk, but she tries to touch him and I'll kill her myself."

"Not if I beat you to it." Maggie said. She went on to tell Merle about how Rick had been shot but not seriously injured (much to Merle's chagrin) and that her father had explained to everyone after Daryl had stomped out of the house that Daryl had been bitten but that he'd cut his finger off immediately and was not a danger to anyone.

Merle smirked as he watched Maggie. She held Daryl's left hand in her right one as it rested on his stomach and brushed her thumb gently back and forth across his fingers. She ran the fingers of her left hand repeatedly through Daryl's hair as she spoke. Merle was sure she didn't even realize what she was doing. Had she and Daryl gotten so close and comfortable with each other that these intimate touches were now second nature? And why did that bother him?

Maggie left out the part where Andrea had pulled her gun on Daryl and demanded to see his bitten hand and where Glenn had grabbed him and he'd punched Glenn in the face. She figured that if Daryl wanted to fill in those parts later for Merle, he could, but she didn't see any reason to make the man any angrier than he was probably already going to be.

Maggie finished and looked over at Andrea and then both of the women looked at Merle.

Merle looked at Andrea, then Maggie and then back at Andrea. "Story time over now?" he asked.

Andrea sighed. "I just thought it would be good for you to know these things."

"And I appreciate the information. I feel all caught up now. Thank you, ladies." Merle said, surprising both women with his politeness.

Maggie felt Daryl's hand twitch and then it slipped out from beneath hers and he groaned. He opened his eyes and blinked up at her. Maggie smiled at him. "Hey, Tiger," she said softly.

Merle snorted.

Daryl's eyes focused on Maggie's face and he gave her a small smile. "You okay?" he asked her.

"Now that you're here with me." she answered.

Merle rolled his eyes.

Daryl pulled himself up and swung his legs off the seat. He looked at Maggie and gave her hand a squeeze before sliding across the seat and over behind Merle.

"Thanks for joinin' us." Merle said.

Thanks for bringin' me with you." Daryl replied.

Merle turned in his seat to look at Daryl. "Unlike your group, I don't leave people behind." he said smugly.

Daryl looked out the window into the rain and saw the parking area for the Forest Lake campground go by. He looked over at Maggie. "You bring the radio so we can let them know we're comin'?"

"We left it in our truck," Maggie said.

Daryl nodded.

"I've always liked surprises." Merle said gleefully. "And this is going to be a humdinger of a surprise! Hell. I'm almost giddy! So nice, the whole gang, well, what's left of 'em, back together again! Maybe someone can bake cupcakes!"

"Shut up, Merle." Daryl growled. "And you best behave yourself when we get there."

"Now calm down, Darleena!" Merle said jovially. "Don't go gettin' your pretty lacey panties all in a bunch! Ol' Merle will be as good as gold if I'm given a proper welcome." Merle turned around and patted Daryl's cheek with his left hand. "How I behave depends entirely on how I'm received, baby brother."

A few minutes later Andrea was frantically patting her pockets looking for the keys to the gate. "Crap! I think I left the keys in the truck!" She heard a jingling noise next to her right ear and looked towards it. Maggie was holding out the keys to the F150 and jingling them next to her ear. There was a gate key on the set.

"I drove us out, remember?" Maggie said.

Andrea blushed and grabbed the keys. "Be right back." she said and she hopped out of the truck to unlock the gate.

"Well ain't this special!" Merle exclaimed. "Your own little private gated community. Will the welcomin' committee be makin' an appearance? Am I dressed well enough for the occasion? I knew I should have changed my underwear, but this pair is good for another month before it really needs washing, I think."

Daryl sighed. Imaginary Merle had been a lot easier to handle than real Merle was.

Maggie patted Daryl's shoulder sympathetically.

Andrea steered through the gate and then got back out of the truck and locked it behind them. She hopped back in behind the steering wheel. A few seconds later she parked the truck and turned to Merle and smiled. "Well," she said. "Here we are."

"This is going to be fun." Merle said. "Oh, everyone still thinks Derle's dead, don't they? Oh, this is _really_ going to be fun!"

"Maybe you should follow behind us," Daryl said as he stepped out into the rain, holding onto the open door to keep his weight off his right foot. Maggie was beside him in a minute.

"Let me help you," she said and she slid her arm around his waist, carefully avoiding his stitches. "Lean on me."

It was so hard for Daryl not to pull away from her and not to insist that he didn't need any help but he swallowed and then nodded and quietly said, "Thanks."

Maggie smiled as she felt Daryl lean into her. She could still hardly believe that he was there with her. In the truck she had kept at least one hand on him at all times. It was like she had to be physically touching him to keep her convinced that he was really there.

Rick resisted the urge to run out and greet the strange truck when it had pulled into the parking area at the base of the driveway. Glenn saw the truck as it came to a stop and turned to Rick. "That's Merle's truck." he said. Rick ran his hand across his face and smiled when he saw Daryl slide out of the truck and lean against the door frame. "She was right." he said to Glenn. He laughed. "She was right!"

He stopped laughing when he saw Merle step out of the vehicle. Merle had become much leaner than the man that Rick had handcuffed to the roof in Atlanta so many months ago. His head had been shaved the last time Rick had seen him (the only time Rick had seen him) and now it was covered with short, curly light brown and gray hair. As the foursome came through the gate and approached the porch, Rick noticed that Merle looked like he'd aged about a decade, too.

The kitchen door opened and Carol stepped out onto the porch. Her eyes widened when she saw Daryl limping toward the house with Maggie's help and she turned around and hurried back into the house. Daryl was still alive and he was back. This was not good.

"Well, look who it is!" Merle's raspy voice boomed as the foursome approached the porch.

Rick nodded in acknowledgment. "Merle."

"Officer Friendly! Bet you never thought you'd see me again, did you?" Merle said as he stepped up onto the porch. Andrea rushed to stand next to him, hoping to be able to diffuse any potential explosions with logic and reason before they happened.

"Merle!" Daryl said in a warning tone of voice.

Merle stepped closer to Rick and Rick refused to move. He wasn't going to back up or move aside. Merle Dixon had to know that he was not going to be intimidated by him.

Merle stepped closer and the two men were now nose to nose.

"Aww, Rick! It looks like you got a bruise on that pretty face a yours! You get into a fight or something? Piss someone off?"

"Merle!" Daryl snapped. "Back off!"

"You just relax, little brother. We're just talkin' here. Ain't that right, Rick?"

Rick sighed. "Merle, you were.."

That was as far as he got before Merle's left fist collided with the right side of his face.

"Do you know what it's _like_ to be dyin' of _thirst_ while you _bake_ in the sun on a _hundred degree_ day?" Merle roared as his fist struck Rick's face.

Rick staggered backward from the impact as a burst of pain shot through his head and everything suddenly seemed to swirl around him.

"Or how it _feels_," Merle yelled as he slammed his fist into Rick's stomach. "to _saw off_ your own _hand_?"

Andrea was screaming and trying to pull Merle off Rick and Daryl pulled away from Maggie and grabbed Merle's arm, yanking him backward.

Merle tried to shake Daryl and Andrea off as Glenn hauled Rick to his feet. Daryl shoved Merle to the porch floor and then positioned himself in front of Rick in a semi crouched position with his arms spread out to his sides, blocking Merle's access to the man.

Rick was sitting against the wall next to the kitchen door and trying to clear his head. His mouth was bleeding and he put his hand to his mouth and then pulled it away.

"You missin' any teeth?" Daryl asked him just as Merle charged him.

"Get outta my way, Derle! This is between me an' Rick."

Daryl stood his ground as Merle pushed into him. "You wanna get to him, you gotta go through me." he said.

"No!" Maggie yelled.

"You're his bitch, huh?" Merle snarled. "Is that how it is?"

"I ain't nobody's bitch and I sure as hell ain't yours, neither, Merle. Now you've gotta back off. If you can't make nice here, we gotta go get in your truck and leave. Head to Maine. We can do it right now. It's up to you, but I ain't lettin' you near Rick."

The kitchen door burst open and Dale, Lori and Hershel spilled out onto the porch. "What is going on!" Lori shouted. She saw Rick sitting on the floor behind _Daryl_? "Rick!" she cried and she fell to her knees next to her husband to see if she could help him.

Merle raised his hands. "Okay, okay, I'm done. I've got my payback." He pointed at Rick with his only hand. "You _deserved_ that, and you _know it_."

To Merle's surprise, and everyone else's astonishment, Rick nodded. "You're right, I did." he said as his wife wiped the blood from his mouth.

"Daryl's alive?" Dale asked.

Hershel chuckled and slapped Dale on the back.

"You really done with the bullshit?" Daryl asked Merle.

"I'm really done." Merle said.

"You promise?" Daryl asked.

"Yes, I fuckin' promise!" Merle shouted.

Rick was getting to his feet with Lori's help and Merle tried to step around Daryl to get to him. "I'm not gonna do nothin'!" Merle said to his younger brother when Daryl tried to block him. "Rick!"

Rick turned to face Merle. "What do you want, Merle?"

"I want a truce and a couple of words with you in private." He extended his left hand to Rick. "Truce?" he asked.

"No, Rick," Lori hissed.

Rick reached out and took Merle's hand and they shook hands.

Hershel looked over at Maggie and then at Daryl. "Daryl, I'm glad to see that the reports of your untimely demise were greatly exaggerated." he said and he shot Merle a stern look. "But you look worse than you did before you left us, son. Can you come in so I can .."

"Yes, he will." Maggie said quickly.

"Why don't y'all head inside and me and Merle will have a talk and be in shortly." Rick said.

"No." Lori said firmly. "I don't trust.."

Rick put his hand on Lori's shoulder and looked into her eyes. "It's going to be fine. I promise. Just go inside and we'll be in in just a few minutes."

Daryl, Maggie, Dale and Andrea followed Hershel into the house and Lori looked at Merle and then back at Rick. "Rick, please.."

"Shhhh…it's okay. Just go inside and I'll join you for a cup of that nasty tea you like so well in just a few moments. Okay?"

Lori bit her lower lip and nodded. "Okay." She glanced in Merle's direction one more time before she disappeared into the kitchen.

Rick walked over to the bench by Daryl's room's entrance and motioned to it. Merle sat down on the bench and Rick sat in the rocking chair. "What do you want, Merle." Rick asked.

Merle sighed. "First of all, I don't want to be here." he chuckled. "Shit, this is one of the last places I want to be, but Daryl, you see. He needs to be here. For a while at least."

"Daryl left of his own accord." Rick said. "He wanted to find you and he didn't think things were working out for him here."

Merle leaned back against the wall. "Uh huh. And what did you think? Did you think things were working out for him?"

Rick raised his eyebrows. "I think Daryl belongs here. I know he's a private person and he's got his own bedroom suite here with its own entrance so he doesn't have to deal with everyone all the time. Daryl is an important part of this group and I don't mean just for his hunting and tracking skills."

Merle nodded. "He's not well. His head is all messed up. I don't mean like 'crazy' messed up but 'something inside is broke' messed up. He woke up at my place and he didn't know where the hell he was or what had happened and then he started bleedin' out of his nose like a damned geyser. We're here so the doc can fix him up. He needs that. I'm afraid if we head to Maine now when he's in the shape he's in he won't make it. Can you see where I'm comin' from?"

"Yes, I can." Rick said. Merle's concern for Daryl surprised him. "So why did you tell Maggie and Glenn that Daryl was dead?" he asked.

Merle looked away from Rick and smiled. "Cause it ain't fair for a young woman to watch the road every day waitin' for someone to come back when they ain't comin' back. What my brother did to that girl was cruel. Leavin' her to go north with no plans to come back. I did it so she could move on. I watched Daryl watch the road and answer the phone for months waiting for someone. Someone who wasn't comin' back. She was dead and he didn't know. I finally told him 'cause I couldn't stand to see him holding onto the hope she'd be coming back when I knew she wouldn't. I know it ain't the same situation as Daryl and the girl here, but it's similar."

Rick nodded. Maybe Merle wasn't as big of an asshole as he'd thought.

"Am I going to have to watch my back while you're here? Expect a steak knife in back dock at dinner? Will I wake up to find you trying to choke me to death in my sleep?"

Merle grinned. "No, I'm good. For now. That is to say, I'm good for the time we're stayin' here. I couldn't let it go without doin' nothin' though. I really don't think that needs to be explained."

Rick was quiet for a minute as he stared at the floor and then he looked over at Merle. "Come on inside. I'll see you get the grand tour of the place."

* * *

Carol watched as Hershel entered Daryl's room behind Maggie and Daryl and then closed the door. She tried to remember if the Hyundai was an automatic or a standard shift vehicle. She had already confirmed that the keys for the vehicle were hanging on the key rack in the kitchen and if the car was an automatic, she would be all set. She hadn't driven a standard shift vehicle since she was in high school, but if she had to she supposed that she could. She would just have to sneak out when no one was paying attention and make her escape. She needed to be around some different people, some new people. Woodbury. There were different, new people there. She couldn't wait to meet them.


	24. Chapter 24

**OMG, you guys are so awesome! Thank you for the reviews, I appreciate them so much and a special thanks to my wonderful guests who comment, too. I love getting feedback from all of you! Please forgive the awkwardness of the romantic parts (romantic parts? In my story? AAAHHH!)of the story as I never ever intended for this to be a romance and I'm sort of out of my element. BUT..it's fun to try new things, right? This is a sort of 'no action' chapter (what? Another one of those?) but I promise you eventual action and blood and guts and gore and death and all sorts of icky, horrible angsty fun stuff! I will try to post more often too. Now I have a good idea of where this story is going, I can't wait to write more of it! **

Daryl bit his lower lip as he looked around at what used to be his room. He was sure that someone would have moved into the master bedroom suite before he had gotten too far down the road the day he'd left. After all, it was the largest and nicest bedroom in the whole house and Lori had made no secret of the fact that she felt that she and Rick should have had that room. The room was as he had left it. The Remington art still hung on the walls and the bed was made up with the light blue quilt and the two pillows he had left behind were side by side at the head of the bed. The red and tan wool serape that he had pilfered from the den on the third floor was folded at the foot of the bed and the stuffed bobcat still sat in a corner, keeping its watchful glass eyes on anyone entering the room.

Daryl turned to Maggie and raised an eyebrow. "Nobody moved into here after I left? I'd a thought someone woulda been movin' their stuff in the minute they knew I was gone."

"Lori decided she likes the room she and Rick have now and this one doesn't have a view of the lake." Maggie explained. "No one else even mentioned it. At least not to me, anyway."

Hershel motioned to the chair by the closet. "Do you think you could sit down right here for a moment? I really need to take a look at your eyes."

"My eyes?" Daryl asked as he hobbled to the chair and sat down.

"Is there an echo in here?" Maggie asked.

Daryl sighed. "I wondered when you'd start in."

Hershel reached into his pocket and pulled out his trusty penlight.

Daryl groaned. "That damned thing again, huh? I didn't miss that thing one little bit."

Hershel ignored Daryl's complaining. "Open your eyes as wide as you can."

Daryl did as he was told.

"Okay, good. Now look to your left. Now to your right. Look up. Okay. Look down. Good. Now look right and then look left as fast as you can. Hmmm… do that again. One more time, please."

"This is startin' to make me dizzy." Daryl said.

"We're almost done." Hershel said and he switched the penlight on and directed its light into Daryl's right eye. "Just keep looking straight ahead." he instructed. He moved the beam of light from Daryl's right eye to his left and then back again three or four times before switching it off.

"Did I pass or fail?" Daryl asked as Hershel returned the penlight to his pocket.

There was a knock on the door and Glenn's voice said, "I'm giving Merle a tour of the house, can we come in?"

Merle's gruff voice followed it. "'Course we can!" and the door flew open.

Daryl, Hershel and Maggie turned towards where Merle stood in the doorway, a big grin on his face.

Merle took a look around as Glenn was trying to peek into the room around him.

"So this is Derle's room. Well ain't this grand!" He stepped inside. "You don't mind if I come on in here and take a quick peek, do ya, baby brother?" he said as he walked toward the bathroom.

Maggie looked outraged at Merle's blatant disregard for Daryl's privacy or wishes. She looked over at Daryl as she opened her mouth to tell Merle a thing or two and stopped when she saw Daryl purse his lips as his eyes widened and he shook his head.

She could hear him in her head as clear as if he was speaking aloud to her. "Please, don't poke the bear!"

Maggie closed her mouth and raised her eyebrows as she smiled at Daryl.

He gave her a wink and mouthed, "Thanks."

"Well I'll be a son of a bitch!" Merle's voice boomed from inside the bathroom. "Just look at this bathroom, will ya?! This is damned fancy! You could have a pool party in this here big ol' bathtub. Wait, is this one of them jacuzzimajigger tubs? I'm gonna hafta borrow your bathroom and try that out before we leave here, Derle!"

Glenn looked over at Daryl, Maggie and Hershel and shrugged.

Hershel was smiling like a cat that had eaten a canary.

Daryl sighed and looked at his bare feet. What could he say? Merle was just…Merle.

Merle stepped out of the bathroom and grinned. "Is there any 'Mr. Bubble' in this house? If not I gotta make a run and find some. A tub like that is just beggin' for 'Mr. Bubble'."

Maggie bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from erupting into laughter. Then a mental picture of Merle in a tub full of bubbles popped into her head and she tried to banish it as quickly as possible but it just wouldn't go away.

Merle tromped over to where Hershel stood and extended his only hand. "You must be the Doc. Glad to meet you. I'm Derle's brother, Merle."

Hershel put out his hand and took Merle's and Merle shook it firmly. "Can't thank you enough for lookin' after my little brother." he said. "He told me you've been patchin' him up, keepin' him alive. You and the Spitfire. I appreciate that more than you could know."

Daryl was more surprised by Merle's admission than Hershel was.

Merle turned to where Glenn stood looking perplexed and asked, "So where to next?"

"Ah, um…the laundry room, basement and then the second floor." Glenn answered.

"Okay, boy, let's go." said Merle already reaching for the doorknob.

* * *

After Merle and Glenn had made their exits, Hershel looked down at where Daryl sat with his head in his hands. "Well, he sure is….colorful." Hershel said with a smile. Then he turned to Maggie who was smiling as well and asked, "The Spitfire?"

"Merle has a nickname for everyone. Mine is one of the nice ones. Some of them aren't so nice," she explained. "Just ask Andrea."

"No," Hershel said. "I think I'll pass. Daryl, I really need to assess any new injuries you have, but I'd like to take a quick look at some literature upstairs first, do you mind?"

"Not at all." Daryl replied. "I was kind of hoping that I could maybe get in the shower first anyway."

"Are you dizzy?" Hershel asked. "Because maybe.."

"No, I'm not dizzy!" Daryl snapped. He regretted it the minute it was out of his mouth and he dropped his eyes and fidgeted in the chair. Hershel was trying to help him out and here he was, being all grumpy towards him. "I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted." Hershel said. "I'll be back in about fifteen or twenty minutes." He walked to the door and let himself out, closing it behind him.

Maggie walked over to the window and peeked out through the curtains. "The rain has stopped. I'll start bringing your things in from the truck while you're in the shower." she said. "Unless, of course you'd like some help in there."

Daryl closed his eyes and hung his head. "Don't need no help, but thanks. If you could bring in my Rugers and my crossbow I'd be much obliged," he said as he pushed himself up out of the chair using the chairs arms for leverage. The Fentanyl had worn off and his injuries, especially the one to his ankle, seemed to be getting more painful by the moment.

* * *

Maggie was disappointed that Daryl had totally rejected her offer of keeping him company in the shower, but as she watched him limp toward the bathroom she decided that in his injured state, he probably hadn't realized that she had ulterior motives and he probably wasn't up for anything other than a shower. He wasn't rejecting her, she told herself. And he had actually kissed her, and in front of other people! In front of _Merle_! Daryl closed the bathroom door behind him and Maggie smiled as she remembered the look in Daryl's eyes and how it had changed right before he had boldly pulled her into that kiss. As hurt and tired as he was, he had needed to show her the depth of his feelings for her and to hell with whoever saw it and what they thought.

The sun was shining and was quickly evaporating the small puddles of rain on the ground. She played the scene over in her mind as she walked out to the truck. She had been shocked when she saw Daryl's face as he landed on top of Morey and started beating the hell out of him. He really had reminded her of a tiger then, the way he'd leaped on the man, his upper lip raised and baring his teeth in a most tiger-like snarl. She smiled as she pulled the tarp off the back of the truck.

She pulled a bag of clothing out of the back of the truck and then opened the back door of the cab and looked for Daryl's Rugers. She found them wrapped in a towel and slid the gun belt over her shoulder before searching the cab for his crossbow. It wasn't there. She looked again. No crossbow. She opened the front passenger door and looked on the floor. It wasn't there, either. She checked under the seats. Not there. Maggie closed her eyes and tried to think. Then she remembered where she'd seen it. Merle had slid it off of Daryl's shoulder and leaned it against a support beam in the barn when he and Jackson were positioning Daryl so they could get him up and out of the barn and to Merle's truck. Oh. Shit. Daryl's crossbow had been left back at the barn. He was _not_ going to be happy.

* * *

Daryl pulled a wash cloth and two towels out of the linen cupboard and placed the towels on the toilet seat. He was glad that he had decided not to take all the bath linens from the bathroom with him when he had packed up and left the house.

He unwrapped his right hand and looked at the scab at the base of his missing finger. It was red, swollen and painful. There was also now a deep 'X' carved into it and it was crusty with dried blood.

The governor had taken a pocket knife and pressed it against the cauterized scab when Daryl refused to answer one of his many questions. He asked the same question over and over and every time Daryl refused to answer, the governor had pressed down on the knife a little harder and the knife had sunk a little deeper into Daryl's healing flesh. The governor had continued to push the knife into the wound until the slice in it was about a quarter of an inch deep and Daryl had bitten the inside of his cheek until it bled to keep control of himself. Then the governor had moved the knife at an angle and asked another question. Daryl had not answered and a new cut appeared and gradually got deeper with each unanswered question.

He hobbled over to the shower, cursing his painful ankle with every step, and turned on the water. He sighed as it rained down on him and then cringed as it hit the burns on the back of his neck. He reached back and felt them with his fingers. How many of the damned things were there. He ran his fingers lightly across them and counted. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Beneath them, another row of eight. His father had burned him with a cigarette a few times when he was small to 'teach him a lesson'. Apparently, he wasn't good at remembering lessons because it had happened on five different occasions. His father only burned him on his palms. This way he was able to deny what they were to anyone who asked (and a social services woman had asked once) and explain away the burns as something Daryl had done.

_"You know how dumb kids can be. His older brother told 'im that if you pound a nail with a hammer, the metal on metal striking makes the nail hot. Daryl had to test it out for himself. Kid never listens to nothin' anyone tells 'im." _

_The woman from social services had looked at Daryl for confirmation and he had agreed with his father and offered to demonstrate to her how he had done it._

_"See? Told ya he was stupid."_

Daryl slowly washed his hair and ran the soapy washcloth over his bruised body. There was dried blood stuck to his skin where he had been struck numerous times where Hershel had stitched up the wound in his side, but at least the stitches hadn't pulled. Some of the stitches in his arm had been ripped out, but the deep cut had already healed and just the surface skin layer was damaged.

His right ankle was blue black with bruises and swollen to more than twice it's normal size. "Lookit me," he muttered to himself. "I got cankles."

He started to get dizzy and he leaned against the cool river rock and mortar wall as the water rained down on him. It was okay, he told himself. Everything was going to be okay. He had found Merle and Merle was here at the house with him. Apparently, Rick and Merle had worked something out because Merle was being given a tour of the house and not being kicked out on his ass. Maggie was safe and she was here under the same roof with him. Her altercation with Morey had been a wakeup call for him.

It was pretty clear that Morey was going to rape Maggie and then he probably would have killed her. The thought of what might have happened made Daryl feel physically sick to his stomach. When he had seen that she was in danger, it had scared the shit out of him. Daryl Dixon did _not_ like to be scared. Not one bit. Once he'd brought Morey down and stood facing Maggie, he was hit with the realization that his greatest fear of all wasn't of being injured or dying but of losing _her_. If she had been injured, it would have hurt him more than being physically wounded and God forbid, if she had been killed, it would have broken him. Hell, if she had died, he was just about positive that he would have laid down beside her and died, too.

She had gotten to him. She was in his heart and there was nothing he could do about it and dammit, why was he resisting this? What was so scary about loving someone? Especially someone who had told him over and over that she loved him? He'd told her on more than one occasion that he'd die for her and he meant it. Of course he did. He loved her. Dammit. She had told him she loved him. It wasn't possible, though. It really wasn't. He was unlovable and worthless. She had a degree in pharmacology and what did he have to offer her? A string of dead squirrels? He was unworthy of love. He was unworthy of any love, but he was especially unworthy of hers. Why was he even entertaining these thoughts? He wasn't good enough for her. _But she had told him she loved him._

Opening his heart to Maggie was like handing her one of his Rugers, telling her to load it, cock it and point it at his heart and then hoping she wouldn't pull the trigger. He understood it then clearly. He was already a survivor and a survivalist before the world went to hell and loving someone put your survival at risk. Why? Because loving someone meant giving them the power to completely destroy you.

* * *

Hershel found Glenn and Merle in the hallway on the second floor. Glenn was explaining whose room was who's when Hershel walked up to them. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but could I speak with Merle for a few minutes?" he asked.

"Is there a problem with my brother?" Merle asked.

Glenn looked at Hershel and then at Merle, and then back to Hershel.

"Daryl's been with you for the last couple of days and I just wondered if you could answer some questions I have about how he's been." Hershel explained.

"Sure, anything I can do to help 'im, I'm happy to do." Merle said. He turned to Glenn and said, "Why don't you take a little break, China. I'll come and find you when we're done and you can finish showin' me the place. That sound good to you?"

Glenn looked at Hershel who nodded and then back at Merle. "Uh, okay. I'll probably be down in the living room." he said.

"Good, I'll catch up with you in a bit." Merle said and he clapped Glenn on the back.

Glenn winced, Merle's little love-pats were actually a bit on the painful side, and he made his way down the hall towards the stairs.

Merle turned back to Hershel. "So, what's going on, Doc?"

Hershel walked over to Glenn's room and knocked on the door. There was no answer. He opened the door and peeked inside. No one was there. "Let's talk in here." Hershel said as he held the door open for Merle. Merle stepped inside and Hershel entered after him, closing the door behind him. Merle sat on the end of the bed and Hershel sat in a chair after moving it over closer to the bed. "Daryl's eyes aren't reacting equally to light and he's showing signs of nystagmus. I'm not sure if there's any oscillopsia involved and.."

Merle held up his hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Doc. In English, please. Or rather, in layman's English, please. I have no idear what nysmus or oscillwhatever is."

Hershel nodded. "I'm sorry." he said. "Nystagmus is a condition where the eyes quiver or jerk back and forth. Oscillopsia is when the person experiencing nystagmus has the sensation that their body is moving along with their eyes, which makes them experience dizziness and vertigo. Have you ever sat in a chair and closed your eyes and felt like the chair was moving?"

Merle grinned. "Hell, yes. Bed does the same thing after I've had more alcohol than I shoulda."

"That's what oscillopsia feels like." Hershel explained.

"Derle's eyes have been dancin' all over the place every once in a while. He'd be lookin' at me and then they'd sorta stutter and drift to one side or another. Another thing you should know about; he woke up at my house and didn't know where he was or how he got there. He started freaking out. A bit later he had a helluva nose bleed. It was like one a them geysers, just blood everywhere. Funny thing, he said after it he could think better. Is my brother gonna be okay? We were comin' back here 'cause he needs your help."

Hershel was surprised. "You both were coming here? Maggie and Andrea didn't convince you to come?"

"Nope. Met up with the ladies at your farm. Had a little run in with a couple of men from Woodbury that were snoopin' around there. It wasn't pleasant."

Hershel raised his eyebrows. "I thought Woodbury was a nice, friendly town full of nice, friendly people."

"Oh, hell, yeah! Woodbury can be right nice and friendly, but, just like before this shit all went down, there are good people and there are bad people. Woodbury has 'em both. How you're treated at Woodbury all depends on who you are, what you have to offer and how loyal you are to the governor. Now tell me, is my brother going to be okay?"

Hershel looked at Merle who was looking at him intently and noticed how blue his eyes were. For some reason he found it amusing that both of the rough, tough Dixon men had been blessed with unusually brilliant baby blue eyes. "Honestly? I don't know. I told him before he left that I've made keeping him alive my new hobby. He has been in some very tough situations, and every time I've thought he wouldn't pull through, he's surprised me. He's actually been a big part of restoring my faith in God."

Merle smiled. "Only a Dixon can kill a Dixon, and Derle, he's been dodgin' bullets and outrunnin' death since he was a kid. I think he's part cat, with nine lives and all."

Hershel smiled. "And my daughter thinks he's a tiger."

Merle smirked but didn't ask any of the several questions that popped into his head. No, he wouldn't ask the daddy, he'd go straight to the spitfire for his answers.

"I'm going to get back downstairs and tend to your brother. I'll let you know how he is and what's going on when I'm done." Hershel said as he stood up.

"Thank you." Merle said and he stood up as well.

Hershel stopped and turned back to Merle. "By the way, do you happen to know what your blood type is? Just in case…"

"O negative. Just like Derle's. If you need any, let me know. Hell, even if someone else needs it. Universal donor, you know."

"Thanks, Merle. Not my business, but I'm going to ask anyway. Did you and Rick get things worked out?"

"We did indeed. For now. Derle don't need me causing any trouble here and I knew I had to get at least some of it out of my system so it's all good. If things start buildin' up in me, I'll leave before I can cause trouble."

Hershel suppressed a smile and turned toward the door. Merle Dixon was a character all right, but Hershel already kind of liked the man.

* * *

Merle stepped out of the hall behind Hershel and was following him toward the stairs when Andrea appeared at the top of them carrying a basket of laundry.

"Let me get that for you." Merle said as he reached for the basket.

Andrea smiled. "It's okay, I've got it."

"Oh come oh, darlin' let me take it. If I'm gonna be here for a while I need to be helpin' out a bit." Merle drawled.

"Okay," Andrea said and handed him the basket. "Follow me and I'll show you where my room is."

Merle smirked. "I was hopin' you'd…"

"Merle!?" Andrea said. "Behave."

"Hey," Merle exclaimed as he looked into the basket he carried, "is that your purty, frilly, flowered underwear I see in here? Oh, my God in heaven! Is that a thong?"

* * *

Carol waited until she saw Maggie carry two of the Shrikes into the house before she stepped out of the garage and made her way across the lawn to the gate that opened into the driveway. Maggie would be bringing the assault rifles back to the war room on the third floor so she had time to get to the Hyundai and leave. She had taken a road atlas from the war room and would use it to make her way to Woodbury. With everyone fussing over Merle and Daryl, and Hershel being distracted by Daryl's new injuries, she was sure it would be a long time before anyone realized she was missing. She hoped that if anyone saw the Hyundai driving up the driveway they would just figure someone was making a quick run and not give it another thought. Unless it was Rick. All runs had to be okayed by him first.

Hopefully, Rick was laying low and staying close to his wife since Merle had cleaned his clock for him.

Carol approached the Hyundai and peeked over at the house. There was no one around. She quickly slid into the car behind the steering wheel and looked at the shifter. She breathed a sigh of relief. Automatic! She started the car and drove up the driveway, looking in the rear view mirror to see if anyone had seen her and was running after her until the house was out of view. She stopped at the gate and quickly got out of the car. After unlocking and opening the gate, she drove through it and kept on going. She didn't stop to close and lock the gate. She smiled as she turned onto Forest Lake Road. She was getting out of there and not a moment too soon.


	25. Chapter 25

**This is not a very long chapter and I'll give you a head's up, it does jump around a bit. Thanks again for the reviews for the last chapter. I know Merle isn't IC because he is being overly friendly, well, for Merle, but I just figure he's doing it for his own benefit as well, so yeah, he is being a bit selfish and that is IC, right? Sort of? Thanks again for taking the time to read this story. You guys are all awesome!**

Carol stopped the Hyundai and took a deep breath. She had stopped right next to the entrance to the Forest Lake Campground parking area where a group of twelve walkers was meandering about in the roadway, blocking her way. As the Hyundai approached, they had all looked in its direction and started moving towards it. Carol tightened her grip on the steering wheel. If she backed up and then hit the gas and headed straight for the walkers, would the car be able to withstand the impact with them without doing a lot of damage? Would it still be drivable? There was still room across the entrance for a car to enter the campground parking lot on her left. She turned the steering wheel and hit the gas, kicking up dirt and stones as the tires spun and the car darted into the parking lot. Carol drove down to the second parking area closer to where the RVs had been set up and parked, leaving the vehicle running. The gas gauge read 'full' and the little vehicle was supposed to get good mileage, so Carol figured she could spare the gas.

She watched as the twelve walkers slowly shuffled across the parking lot toward where she was parked. She rolled the window down on the Hyundai and called out to them. "Come on, you nasty things!" When the walkers started to cross the grass median between the two parking lots, Carol turned the car around and drove by them towards the exit. She laughed to herself. She had gotten them out of her way and she felt a bit proud of herself for luring them away from the roadway like she did. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye as she turned onto Forest Lake Road and looked to her right. A large group of walkers, probably twenty of them, were coming out of the woods on the edge of the parking lot. Some of them were wearing camouflage, others appeared to have been campers at one time. Carol accelerated, kicking up a large cloud of road dust and leaving the walkers behind.

* * *

Rick stepped out onto the deck. Lori had insisted on dragging him to their room and making him sit on their bed. "Here," she said, "I'll help you take off your shirt. I want to rinse the blood out of it before the stain sets. Damn that Merle Dixon."

"Lori, it's just a t-shirt! Who cares if it has a stain? And I can take it off myself." Rick said as Lori grasped the hem of his t-shirt and started to pull it up and off him. "Damn, Lori, he hit me twice, it wasn't like we had a knock down drag out fight."

A large red mark marked the spot right above Rick's navel where Merle had punched him good and hard.

"That Neanderthal!" Lori grumbled. "That's going to be a nasty bruise." She pressed a cold washcloth against Rick's swollen lower lip and he flinched. "How long is he staying and please tell me he isn't." she said.

"He's stayin' until Hershel says that Daryl is okay to travel. As much of an asshole as Merle Dixon is, he does care about his brother."

"Really?" Lori said as she dabbed at Rick's lip again. "You could have fooled me. You should have seen the way he treated him back before you showed up at the quarry. Of course, Daryl was no prince, either. He and Merle were always butting heads. And the cussing! It seemed like I was constantly having to put my hands over Carl's ears. It got so bad that I asked Glenn to see if he could find me a pair of those ear muffs for him to wear just so I wouldn't have to keep covering them."

Rick grinned. "Ear muffs?"

"You, know, those things you used to wear when you mowed the lawn or went target shooting."

"Oh. I thought you were talking about some furry little things girls sometimes wear in winter."

Lori pushed his shoulder playfully. "Well you thought wrong. And men and boys wear those, too."

"If you say so," Rick said.

Lori sat up on the bed next to Rick and reached over and started to scratch his back. Rick closed his eyes and sighed. "A little more to the right. A little more..now down about an inch."

Lori smiled to herself. It had been a long time since she'd scratched Rick's back for him. She moved her hand down an inch and ran her nails back and forth across his skin.

"Ooooooooooh yeaaaaah. That's it. Right there." Rick muttered.

"Were you as surprised as I was to see Daryl Dixon after Merle had said he'd been killed?" Lori asked Rick as she moved her hand up and over Rick's bare shoulder and down his chest.

"Yes. I was. At first I thought Merle was a being a cruel, sadistic scumbag for lying to Maggie and Glenn like he did."

"That's because he _was_ being a cruel, sadistic scumbag." Lori said.

Rick furrowed his brow. "I asked him why. Why he had told Maggie that Daryl was dead and you know what? What he told me made sense. He wasn't doing it to be mean at all. He did it to be kind."

"Ha!" Lori snorted. "How on earth could lying and telling Glenn and especially Maggie that Daryl was dead be kind?"

"Because Merle said Maggie would always be watching the road, waiting for Daryl to come back to her and always hoping for him to return. Merle accused Daryl of being the cruel one for leaving her the way he did with no intentions of returning."

Lori was stunned and they both sat in silence for a few seconds. "Wow." she said. "That actually does make sense. Who would have thought that Merle Dixon would be concerned about anyone's feelings but his own?" She ran her fingers across Rick's chest and gently pinched one of his nipples.

"Ow!" he laughed. "What was that for?"

"I don't know." Lori said with a grin. "This banged up tough guy look you've got going on here is kind of sexy." She ran her fingers through the hair on his chest leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Want me to check you for more bruises? Oh, I could check and see how your bullet wound is healing."

"What about soaking my shirt so the stain isn't permanent?" Rick asked as he reached over and slowly unbuttoned the top button on Lori's shirt.

"Who cares?" Lori said. "It's a t-shirt."

* * *

"I can put those away for ya." Merle said with a grin as he walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. He peeked inside. "Ooooo...What have we here?"

"Merle!" Andrea said sharply as she lifted a small stack of undergarments out of the clothes basket on her bed. "Get out of my underwear drawer!"

Merle lifted his hand in a surrender motion and backed away from the dresser. "Okay, you can't fault a guy for wanting to look."

Andrea smiled. "There's no reason for you to look. None of them would fit you anyway."

"Oh, ha, ha. Aren't you the funny one Sugar Ti.."

"Merle! I don't want you to call me that!"

"It's a compliment! How 'bout 'Miss Perfect Ass' then?"

"I don't care for that one either! Why can't you just call me by my name? How would you like it if I started to call you 'Stubby'?"

"Stubby? Stubby?! Aw, now that's just mean." Merle complained biting back a grin. "You hurt my little feelin's. It ain't nice to make fun of someone's physical shortcomings."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Pickin' on me 'cause I'm missing a hand."

Andrea smiled a sly smile. "Who said I was talking about your arm or your missing hand?" she said and she looked Merle in the eye and then dropped her eyes to his belt before raising them to meet his again.

Merle widened his eyes and waggled his index finger at her. "Oh, ho-ho! You're a _bad_ girl!" He smirked and reached for his belt with his left hand. "Stubby? Stubby, huh? I don't think so!" he huffed. "S'pose I'm gonna have to prove you wrong now."

The smile quickly left Andrea's face. "What? Wait! I was kidding!"

Merle's smirk became more pronounced. "Okay, I'll leave you to your laundry, but just remember, you don't want to go teasin' the bear, sweet cheeks, 'cause it will always come back to bite you in the ass." He turned and walked towards the door.

Andrea found herself biting her bottom lip to hold back a smile as she watched him go.

He turned around and winked at her before he stepped out into the hall and said, "And maybe someday, if you're lucky, I will, too."

A quick mental picture of Merle biting her naked ass popped into Andrea's head and she shook her head as if it could dislodge the thought from her mind. "Yuck!" she said under her breath. Damn, Merle Dixon was a pig, but he was right. She never should have teased him.

* * *

Merle thundered down the stairs into the living room. "What the hell is his name…" he mumbled to himself. "Oh, right….Glenn? You around?"

"In the kitchen," Merle heard Glenn's voice call.

Merle made his way through the dining room and into the kitchen.

Glenn had just dropped a scoop of ice cream into a tall half glass of soda and it fizzed and foam started to rise in the glass. "Root beer float," he said to Merle. "Want one?"

Merle snorted. "Hell, I haven't had one a them since I was a kid."

"Didn't you like them when you were a kid? I'll make you one if you want." Glenn said. Glenn wasn't stupid. He knew that Merle wasn't fond of minorities, being the big, dumb racist bastard that he was, but he figured if he could get and stay on Merle's good side, he and Merle could co-exist in the lake house in relative peace. At least until it was time for Merle and Daryl to leave.

"Now why would you want to do a nice thing like that for a racist asshole like me?" Merle asked suspiciously.

Glenn's eyes widened. Shit, could Merle read his mind? No, of course he couldn't. Could he?

* * *

Five minutes later Glenn and Merle were walking out onto the deck, each carrying a root beer float. Glenn carried napkins and a plate of cookies as well. Both men placed sat down at the slate patio table. Merle drank some of his beverage and then put the glass back on the table. He licked the foam mustache off his upper lip and belched and then looked up into the sky. "Sun came out after all." he said.

Glenn nodded in agreement and stuck a straw into his float.

Merle watched him for a minute, and Glenn could feel Merle's eyes studying him. It made him feel incredibly nervous.

"So", Merle said as he leaned back in his chair, holding his float again. "Tell me what happened to your face. Someone punch you in the nose?"

Now Glenn was really nervous. He reached for a cookie and almost spilled his float. "Uh, yeah. I ... I guess you could say that."

"You guess I could say that?" Merle laughed. "Either they did or they didn't. Bet I can guess who it was." he said. He lifted his glass to his lips and drank deeply. Damn, this thing tasted good! The foam tickled his upper lip and he licked it away once again. "Thanks for makin' this for me. This is a damned good root beer float."

Glenn's eyes widened, had Merle just thanked him for something?

"Now where was I? Right. Your face. Wasn't one of the women. They like to slap but generally won't sock you in the face like that. Well, Officer Friendly's woman seems like the type that might. Hmmm.." Merle leaned forward and studied Glenn's face that had now turned a bright shade of 'embarrassment red'.

"Um…Merle, let's not..."

"Whoever hit you put some 'oomph' behind it in order to bruise you under the eyes like that." Merle continued. "Broke your nose, probably, too. I had to reset Daryl's yesterday. Damned Woodbury pricks. Now I can't see the old guy with the RV doin' somethin' like that, he's too much of a whiney, peace lovin' wimp. Officer Friendly? Nah, although I could see Shane poundin' you one if you pissed him off, but he ain't around no more so it wan't him."

Glenn swallowed the rest of his cookie and reached for his float.

Merle drank the rest of his and took a deep breath before expelling a loud and long juicy sounding belch.

Glenn heard Carl giggling through the open living room windows and Beth's voice said, "That is soooo disgusting!"

Merle grinned and folded his arms in front of him. "So tell me, Glenn," he said. "Why'd my brother feel the need to hit you in the face? He normally leaves guys like you well enough alone. You do something to piss him off?"

Glenn went into panic mode. "It was….we…I thought…and he…" he was gesticulating wildly as if willing his hands to tell the story that his mouth was having trouble getting out.

"Uh huh." Merle said. "I'm sorry, but I don't speak scared dork or nerd or whateverthehell the word is for guys like you nowadays, so how 'bout explainin' it to me in plain ol' English?"

Glenn took a deep breath. "Daryl hit me because he was mad at me."

Merle burst into laughter. "Because he was mad at you…."

He stopped laughing and in one second Glenn watched Merle's face transform. The man now staring at him across the table with narrowed eyes and a menacing sneer on his face looked downright deadly and not in the least bit amused.

"Did you deserve it?" Merle growled.

"What?"

Merle's eyebrows furrowed and his glare intensified and Glenn could have sworn he was looking into the angry face of the devil himself. "The hit to the face. Did. You. Fuckin'. Deserve. It."

"Yes!" Glenn shouted. "Yes, I deserved it! I grabbed his arm and said I wouldn't let go until he showed us his hand! Carol said he'd been bitten!"

The anger left Merle's face as quickly as it had arrived. "Well shit," he said. "The mouse was really stirrin' up trouble that day, wasn't she? What's she got against my brother?"

Glenn shrugged.

Merle grabbed a cookie and pointed it at Glenn. "What say you drink up while I eat this here cookie and then you can show me the rest of the place?"

* * *

Maggie stepped into Daryl's room through the exterior door carrying the rest of the down pillows. She could hear the shower was still running. She arranged the pillows at the head of the bed and adjusted Daryl's gun belt where she'd hung it on the rack above the bench near the door. The Rugers were on the dresser. Maggie put the bag of Daryl's clothes up on the bed and opened it. She took a few pairs of his folded jeans and put them in the center bureau drawer and then arranged the rest of his clothes in the drawers. She smiled as she placed a small pile in the top drawer. Why did handling Daryl's boxers and briefs make her feel so giggly and silly? Maggie hung his shirts in the closet. She sighed before moving the damaged winged vest aside to make room for the shirts. She decided that she would start working on fixing the vest for Daryl that evening.

Maggie had made up her mind that she was going to be staying in Daryl's room with him. She hadn't told him that yet, but she wasn't going to give him a choice in the matter. She knew that it was going to take time for him to heal and that he would probably need a lot of sleep, but that was okay. She would be perfectly content to sit next to him and work on repairing his vest or read to him or just watch him sleep. Sure, she knew he would need his 'alone time'. and that was fine, but every night for now on she was going to be in this bed with him. She didn't think she'd be able to sleep otherwise. Her Tiger was back and she still was having moments where she just couldn't believe it and she would be overcome with a desperate desire to touch him just to reassure herself that he was really there and that this wasn't a dream.

The shower continued to run and she considered tapping on the bathroom door and asking him if he planned to be in there all day, but decided it would be best not to bother him. Maggie suddenly remembered the missing crossbow. How on earth was she going to explain that to Daryl? She decided that the best thing to do would be to find Merle and ask him about it. She didn't care for Merle at all, but he was Daryl's brother and he would probably be pleased if she approached him about the crossbow situation. Heck, maybe he'd offer to go get it. She slipped out of the room and into the hallway and closed the door. Now where was Merle?

.


	26. Chapter 26

**Thank you for again for taking the time to read this. It gladdens my evil little heart. **

"Daryl loves this room," Glenn said as he stepped into the wood-paneled den with Merle behind him.

Merle whistled between his teeth as he his eyes scanned the room. He walked around in the den, slowly inspecting the taxidermy mounts, running his hand across the bobcat's back and gently caressing the smooth, curved tines on one of the white-tailed deer head's antlers.

Glenn watched as Merle examined the room. He noticed how Merle stopped to run his hand over the animals and how he lingered near a couple of them and seemed to look at them for a long time. There was something different about Merle as he walked around in this room and at first Glenn couldn't put his finger on it. They had been in the room for about five minutes and Glenn had lowered himself onto one of the leather couches when it suddenly hit him.

Merle, loud, abrasive Merle, hadn't spoken a word since entering the room. He had been totally silent.

Glenn's eyes followed Merle as he approached the large stone fireplace and ran his hand across the smooth surface of the maple mantle. Merle stood still for a moment, his hand resting on the mantle, before he walked over and sat himself down in the leather chair across from where Glenn sat on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

Merle's had a blank look on his face and Glenn couldn't keep silent for another second. "So, what do you think?" he asked as he leaned forward on the couch.

Merle glanced around the room again. "I think I just found the cabin in the woods of my dreams all stuffed into one room and that someone built a house around it." he said. "Of course Daryl is mighty taken with this room. I'm surprised he didn't move right in here."

"He likes to spend time in here and when Andrea and Carol fixed up his room they brought a couple of the animals downstairs and stuck them in his room."

Merle grinned. "I noticed he had a bobcat in there." He pointed at the raccoon in the cut off tree in the corner. "That's the biggest damned raccoon I've ever seen. Look at that fuckin' thing. Almost as big as a damned bear." He looked around the room again. "Someone lay claim to this room an's usin' it as their bedroom?"

"No." Glenn said. "There's no bed in here. Carol, Beth and Lori don't really like this room at all. They all say the stuffed animals give them the creeps. That it looks like they're watching them with their glass eyes."

Merle chuckled and took his feet off the table. He stood up and stretched, then looked down at where Glenn sat on the couch. "You think anyone'd mind if I slept in here? Sorta made this my temporary bedroom?"

Glenn shrugged. "I don't see why not. The couches are probably comfortable enough and no one ever comes in here, anyway, except Daryl and sometimes Carl."

"Couch you're sittin' on is a sofa bed." Merle told Glenn. "That should be plenty comfortable enough for me."

"This?" Glenn said as he pointed down at the couch, "This isn't a sofa bed. It's just a plain old couch."

"Is so a sofa bed," Merle snapped. "Pull the cushions off and take a look."

Glenn stood up and stood there, looking down at the couch.

When Merle realized the dumb chink wasn't moving to look under the cushions he got impatient.

"Don't just stand there, dammit, hop to!" he said sharply.

Glenn pulled the leather cushions from the couch and sure enough, Merle was right.

"Told ya." Merle gloated as Glenn looked at him and smiled sheepishly.

Maggie stuck her head through the doorway just then. "There you are!" she exclaimed.

Glenn pointed to himself, "Who, me?" and then to Merle, "or him?"

Maggie entered the room. "Both of you," she said. "We have a problem."

"Derle?" Merle asked. "He take a turn for the worse?"

Maggie saw a worried look flash across Merle's face and then disappear. "No, not at all. He's in the shower." Maggie replied. "Here's the deal, though; I think Daryl's crossbow got left in the barn back at the farm. He asked me to bring it in from the truck before he stepped into the shower and I know he isn't going to be any too happy when he realizes that it isn't here."

Merle slapped his forehead with his palm. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "I leaned the damned thing against a beam in the barn when I was tendin' to 'im after he passed out. Dammit!"

Glenn looked at Maggie and then at Merle and said, "He doesn't really need it, does he? I mean, he has those cool pistols and we've got a lot of firearms here. Can't you just tell him it got lost?"

Merle glared at Glenn. "You kiddin'? You shoulda seen the fit he pitched right before we left Woodbury 'cause he did'nt have it. You'd a thought I'd asked him to cut out his left nut and leave it behind. Was like watchin' a two year old throw a tantrum."

Glenn giggled as he imagined Daryl rolling around on the floor, flailing his arms, kicking his feet and screaming and crying like a misbehaving toddler.

"An' don't get me started on them damned revolvers! What the hell is he thinkin'?! Dumbest weapons choice ever! Least the bow is quiet. Them Rugers is loud as hell. Only six shots per load and you have to manually discharge the used casings! Recoil on them big .44s is hell on the wrists, too. Fuckin' dumb ass brother a mine. Thinks he's a cowboy. Don't know what the dumb shit's tryin' to prove."

Maggie bit her lower lip to keep her from responding to Merle's derogatory comments about Daryl. She saw a devilish grin flash across his face as he watched her and she realized that he was baiting her. The jerk! He was trying to get her all riled up!

"I'm going to go to the farm and get it." she said.

"Get what?" said Andrea's voice from behind her. She stepped into the room and stood next to Maggie as she awaited an answer.

"We left Daryl's crossbow back in the barn at the farm." Maggie explained.

"Oooo." Andrea looked from Maggie to Glenn to Merle and back to Maggie. "Does he know?"

"You hear any real loud screamin' and cussin' comin' from his room?" Merle asked.

Andrea looked at Merle with confusion written all over her face. "No," she said.

"Then he don't know." Merle said. He sighed. "Guess I'll be makin' a road trip back to the farm." He walked toward the door. "Gotta put some gas into the truck first."

"I said I'd go. You can come with me, though." Maggie said. "and we can take the Hyundai. It gets better mileage and besides, I'm not done unloading your truck yet."

"Well shit, woman, you shoulda asked me for some help." Merle said. "I'm the one goin', though, an' you ain't comin' with me. I'd rather you stay here an' keep an eye on my brother. Distract him or somethin' until I get back with his damned toy crossbow." Merle thought of something and then smirked and added, " I know you two ain't seen each other for a few days, but he ain't in the best a health so don't be overdoin' it an' wearin' him out when y'all are bouncin' 'round in that big ol' bed."

Maggie's mouth dropped and her cheeks flushed.

Glenn's whole face reddened and he looked very uncomfortable.

Andrea giggled and then cleared her throat and turned to Merle. "I'll go with you." she volunteered.

"Me, too." Glenn added.

Merle nodded. "Okay, let's get goin' then. Any of the guns still in the truck?" Merle asked Maggie.

Maggie decided to let Merle have his own way this time and didn't argue with him about how he'd ordering her to stay behind. "Yes, a couple of commandos are still there and all the handguns Daryl took when he left."

"Clips for the commandos?"

"In the gun bag, also still in the truck."

Merle smiled and stepped out into the hallway. "Let's go then," he bellowed as he tromped down the hall.

Andrea and Glenn scurried after him.

* * *

Daryl stood up to turn off the shower. It had started to get cold about five minutes earlier and he shivered as he reached for the handle. He'd spent the last ten minutes sitting on the bathroom floor with his back against the river rock wall as the water fell on him. Ten minutes earlier he had been standing on one foot, bent over and holding his right ankle in his left hand as he examined the damage that tall bastard had done to it with the fuckin' hammer. There was a lot more bruising than there had been the day before but the swelling had gone down a bit. He pressed his left index finger against the indentation on the protrusion of his lateral malleolus and he winced. Shit that hurt. He could almost hear Merle's voice chastising him. "So why you touchin' it if it hurts, dummy?"

Daryl moved his finger along the bump and prodded it to see if the bone was stable and moved as if it was in one piece. He wasn't sure if it was because he was partially bent over or if it was because of how fucked up his head was, but everything seemed to tip sideways and he felt like the room was suddenly twirling around him. He immediately grabbed onto the river rock wall behind him and pressed his back against it before he slid himself down into a sitting position, stretching his legs out in front of him. He leaned his head back and rested it on the wall and closed his eyes. That almost made things worse because now it felt like the floor beneath him was pitching and rocking as if he was on a ship.

He opened his eyes and the pitching and rolling diminished considerably but did not go away. It was like being out to sea.

* * *

When Daryl turned ten Merle had taken him out for a day of deep-sea fishing off Jekyll Island for his birthday.

Merle had just gotten home from his first trip to a real prison and was twitchy and irritable from being without the drugs his body craved for the last four weeks. He'd been to juvie before but now that he was nineteen, he'd done his brief sentence at Central State Prison in Macon, a medium security facility for adult males with a population of over a thousand inmates. Even at nineteen, Merle was a force to be reckoned with and he had made it clear to all the other inmates in no uncertain terms that Merle Dixon didn't swing that way and any man that tried anything funny would wake up with their own severed dick in their mouth.

Now that he was out, Merle had an itch that was aching to be scratched and he damned well was going to scratch the hell out of it. One of his connections was working as a deck hand on a charter fishing boat that was running day trips out of Jekyll Harbor and Merle decided to kill two birds with one stone. He'd score a fix and buy some crystal meth from his buddy while Daryl was fishing. Daryl had never been to the ocean before and he was extremely excited, but he remained quiet for the entire drive to the marina. He didnt want to do anything that might make Merle mad at him.

Merle was a jumpy, wired up wreck. He kept thumping the steering wheel of his old truck as he drove and then he would squirm in his seat and grab hold of the tuning dial on the truck's stereo and run up and down the stations. He'd listen to one song for a few seconds, then move the dial again. It made Daryl nervous just watching him. He knew that Merle was wound up like a tightly coiled spring and that if he made one wrong move or said one wrong thing, Merle would go off on him like a nuclear bomb.

They made it to the marina without incident and boarded the boat (4 Play was its name according to the words painted on the transom and both sides of the bow). The 33' boat left the harbor and an hour and a half after they started out from the marina the captain's voice came over the intercom and said that they had arrived at the fishing grounds.

The anchor was dropped to keep the boat from drifting, and the waves were rougher and higher than usual. This was due to a tropical storm that was heading in their direction and would come ashore a little more than twenty four hours later, dumping nearly eight inches on the Georgia coastline in a span of twenty four hours.

The 4 Play bounced around like a cork and Daryl felt his stomach rise and fall as the boat rode the waves. He staggered across the deck as the boat rolled from side to side and grasped the railing when he reached it. He pushed down his panic. He didn't want to be sick and embarrass Merle, especially in front of Merle's 'friend' but the constant motion beneath his feet and the fear he felt when he realized that he could not see land in any direction but just water as far as the eye could see made him nauseous and nervous. He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. Bad idea. The rocking of the boat seemed to intensify and he quickly opened his eyes again just in time to see a pale green colored Merle bolt out the galley door and sprint past him. Merle hung his head over the railing and puked his guts out for about five minutes. He was joined by a couple other fisherman whose stomachs did not find the fishing conditions to be ideal, either.

Daryl smirked at the memory. Merle had spent the rest of the trip moaning and groaning as he lay on one of the bunks utilized for overnight shark fishing trips and Daryl had gotten control of himself and ended up catching four skipjacks, six albacore and a very large mahi mahi. The fish had been filleted and wrapped by the deck hands aboard the 4 Play and sat in a cooler on the floor of the truck at Daryl's feet. Merle complained about the fish smell all the way home that night, but he did tell Daryl he was right proud of him for showing up all those retired old farts out on the boat by catching the most and the biggest fish on the trip.

* * *

Daryl limped over and picked up one of the towels he'd set out for himself. He carefully ran it through his hair then patted it gently against the burns on the back of his neck. He shivered as he dried his back and rubbed the towel across his chest. When he dabbed it across his face he notice several small blood stains on it. The fresh scabs forming over the burns on the back of his neck had been softened and sloughed off in the shower and were bleeding again.

Daryl cinched the other towel around his waist and slowly made his way to the door and stepped out into his bedroom. Hershel wasn't there yet.

Daryl hobbled over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. As he had expected, his underwear was in there stacked in orderly rows. He bit his lower lip and resolved to lay down a "no one touches my underwear except me" rule as soon as he and Maggie were able sit and talk. He pulled a pair of boxer briefs out of the drawer fand stepped into them, accidentally bumping his right ankle against the corner of the dresser and letting loose a stream of expletives that would make a seasoned sailor blush.

As Daryl pulled a t-shirt out of the drawer there was a quiet knock on the door followed by Hershel's voice. "May I come in?"

"Course you can." Daryl said, still holding onto the t-shirt as he moved slowly over to the bed and sat on the edge of it.

Hershel slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. He turned to where Daryl sat on the edge of the bed, the t-shirt clutched in his left hand.

The man had a fresh crop of bruises littering his face, chest and legs and Hershel noticed some new lacerations including one below his right eye and across the top of his right hand. Hershel's eyes rested on Daryl's right ankle and he cringed. It was swollen and bruised and sported a round shaped indentation where hit had been struck with the ball peen hammer. Hershel looked back up and met Daryl's eyes with his own. He watched as Daryl's eyes drifted to the left and then jerked back to focus on him.

Hershel stepped closer to Daryl and Daryl instinctively leaned away from him and then stopped himself and sat up straight. "I'm going to do a full assessment of your condition and then we'll figure out what needs to be done. We'll go one step at a time. First I'm going to be checking your head injuries. I'll try to be careful. Lord knows I don't want to hurt you any worse than you've already been hurt."

"Go ahead then." Daryl said. "An' don't worry 'bout hurtin' me. I'm good." He felt Hershel's hands move across the top of his head and down the sides before they came to a stop.

Hershel ran his right hand across a bump above Daryl's right ear. There was a small cut on the bump and a dark bruise blanketed the area. "This is new." he said. He came upon another much larger bump on the back of Daryl's head with similar bruising. "Would you please look down towards the floor," Hershel asked as he leaned over Daryl's shoulder to get a better look.

Daryl did as he was told. Hershel noticed what looked like broken skin on the back of Daryl's neck peeking out from underneath his hair. He squinted and gently pushed the hair away from Daryl's neck, exposing the cluster of cigarette burns. Hershel sucked in a breath. What kind of barbarian could do something like this to a fellow human being?

Hershel took a step back and put his hand on Daryl's shoulder. Daryl jumped but did not move away from Hershel.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Hershel asked quietly.

Daryl looked up at him. "Ain't much to tell. Guy in charge of Woodbury wanted me to answer some questions. Wasn't too happy when I wouldn't."

"You've taken at least two more blows to your head. I don't need to tell you that that isn't a good thing. Did either of them cause you to lose consciousness? "

Daryl closed his eyes and nodded. "Both of 'em. When they caught me I put up a fight…."

'I'll bet you did,' thought Hershel.

"They'd handcuffed me an' one a the bastards whacked me with one a my Blackhawk after I'd really got him mad. When they got me into town they put me in a small room and stated questioning me. I couldn't leave well enough alone and ended up really pissin' off that one fella. The chair I was in had gone over when he hit me in the face and he kicked me in the head while I was on the floor."

Hershel watched Daryl's eyes meet his and then drift to the right as he spoke. "Next thing I knew Merle was there. Didn't believe it was him at first. Thought I was imaginin' him. It was kind a funny."

Daryl's eyes moved back to Hershel's once again.

"I understand that while you were at Merle's home, you had an incident where you woke up and you didn't know where you were or what had happened."

Daryl smirked. "You been talkin' to Merle. Hope he didn't give you a hard time. Merle's….well, Merle usually don't play too well with others." he said as he rubbed the whiskers on his chin with his left hand. Daryl was surprised to see a hint of a smile on the white-haired man's face.

"Merle's getting along with me just fine." Hershel said. "Although I wouldn't want to get on his bad side. He's been quite helpful and he's quite worried about you."

Daryl snorted.

Hershel raised his eyebrows.

Daryl sighed. "I'm sorry." he said to Hershel. His eyes drifted to the right again and he closed them. "Merle told me he's tryin' to be a better person now that he's off the drugs. I guess I sorta doubt he can do it is all." he explained.

Hershel was running his right hand across Daryl's jaw line. "Someone busted you a good one in the mouth, any tooth displacement or loss?"

"Two on the bottom left are a bit loose, but I've had worse. Take 'em a bit a time but they'll tighten up."

"Maggie told me that Merle has his own house in Woodbury and that he's well liked and respected there. I don't think he feels any too comfortable here, but this is where he wants to be because you're here. He wants you to heal properly before the two of you go running off to Maine. I think that says a lot."

"I s'pose you're right. T'was Merle insisted we come back here. At first I thought he jes' was wantin' to find Rick for some payback."

"I'm going to take the stitches in your forehead out." Hershel said as he pulled the small garbage can over next to him and then reached for a tiny pair of curved scissors in his shirt pocket. "Then I'll check the ones in your arm. And for the record, I'm very pleased that Merle is here to help with your recovery. You are not ever going to properly heal unless you lay low and don't over exert yourself and you get sufficient rest. I think I'll discuss a care plan with Merle and put him in charge of making sure you adhere to it. Maybe he can sit on you the next time you try to jump up and run off when you're not well enough to." Hershel said.

"You know it's hard for me to stay still for very long."

"Don't I ever." Hershel replied as he steadied Daryl's head with a hand and caught the first stitch in his forehead on the open curved blade and snipped it. "Merle mentioned that you had a rather heavy nosebleed after your bout of confusion."

"I did. Was weird. It was like my head was suddenly full a too many thoughts, like they were all crammin' into my mind at the same time. Felt like my damned head was gonna explode, then it felt like it did. I started bleedin' from my nose and then my head cleared up."

"Did you have a headache when everything was all jumbled up and if so, did it disappear after the nosebleed?" Hershel asked as he pulled the last stitch.

"Had a helluva headache before and a manageable one after. Didn't completely go away." he told Hershel.

Hershel nodded. "May I check the stitches in your left arm now?" he asked.

Daryl stretched his left arm out and Hershel examined his stitches.

Hershel pulled the stitches in Daryl's arm and re-stitched the wound where it had been pulled apart when the governor had repeatedly hit it with a policeman's baton while Daryl was cuffed to the chair.

"Does that hurt?" the sadistic bastard had asked. Daryl had refused to answer him. "How about this?" the governor had said as he snapped the baton above Daryl's cuffed wrist again.

Hershel re-stitched Daryl's abdominal wound noting the lacerations and the extensive fresh bruising around it. He noticed that the bruises from Shane's brutal attack hadn't even completely faded yet.

* * *

Hershel had just started examining Daryl's right ankle when there someone started to bang on the door. "Comin' through!" Merle announced loudly as he pushed the door open and strode into the room. "I know I'm interruptin' but I'll be but a minute. Derle, me and Goldilocks and Rice Boy gotta make a run out to that farm and we'll be back when we're done there."

Daryl lifted one eyebrow as he looked at Merle and Merle responded by lifting one of his own and gruffly asking, "What?"

"Place is crawlin' with walkers! What the hell you gonna go there for?" Daryl asked, sounding just a gruff as Merle did.

"'Cause I left your fuckin' toy crossbow there, that's why." Merle snapped. "I wan't gonna tell you, but then I figured I'd better 'cause I need to give you a warning."

A warning? Daryl narrowed his eyes at his brother and scowled. "Best be careful, Merle." he said, giving Merle a warning of his own. "and dammit you left my crossbow!? What the hell?!"

Merle threw his arms up. "Well _excuuuuuuuuuse meeeeee _for bein' more concerned with gettin' your stupid ass outta there alive than where your fuckin' piece a shit peashooter was!" he roared.

Hershel cringed.

"I'm comin' with you." Daryl said and he started to stand.

"See?" yelled Merle. "That's exactly why I came in here to see you! " He pointed his only index finger at Daryl and continued to shout. "Now you sit your ass back down and stay _right here_, dammit! You ain't goin' _nowhere_! You got that?"

Daryl took a step towards Merle, being careful not to put much weight onto his right leg and pointed a finger of his own at his older brother. "You ain't the boss a me!" he growled.

Merle laughed and then got dead serious again. "Until you've healed the fuck up I sure as hell _am_ the boss a you and you _damned well _best not be forgettin' that!" he snarled. "_Look at you_! That damned ankle is swelled all up and you can barely walk on it! You'd be nothin' but a fuckin' _liability_ on a run like this! You'd get us all killed waitin' on your worthless, sorry ass if you came with us out to the farm, dummy!"

Daryl hung his head and looked at the floor.

Merle watched as his brother sat back down on the edge of his bed and started to chew on his thumbnail. He sighed and took a step towards Daryl. "Now we're on our way an I'm warnin' you. You stay put while I'm gone. You got that, Derle?" he asked. This time he didn't yell.

Daryl didn't say anything and he didn't look up at his brother but he did nod. That was good enough for Merle.

* * *

"Last one there's the rotten egg!" Carl yelled as he and Beth both burst from the kitchen door out onto the porch. They both leaped off the porch at the same time and started running for the chicken coop, laughing as they ran

Carl was ahead of Beth and he looked over his shoulder to see how far behind him she was as he rounded the corner of the coop and then he heard her scream as he crashed into something. The walker toppled over, still holding onto the chicken it was eating and Carl fell on top of it. He yelled out in surprise as his hands sank up to his wrists into the walker's soft and rotting abdomen. It snarled and let go of the chicken and bent forward to try to bite him. Carl yelled and scrambled to his feet and felt a cold boney hand grab him by his right forearm. He heard Beth screaming again as he yanked his arm away from the small walker that had apparently been an elderly lady. He stumbled backward and caught his balance and looked around quickly there was a large group of walkers near the garage and behind the chicken coop. Carl ran back toward the house and saw Beth trying to dodge walkers that seemed to suddenly appear from nowhere. A large camo clad walker took a handful of her hair and pulled to try to get her closer to its mouth as Beth dodged past it and Beth was jerked back into the hungry creature. She screamed which caused other walkers to move towards her.

"No!" Carl yelled at the top of his lungs and he dove through the walkers to get to her.

Carl slammed into the walker about to bite into Beth's shoulder as Beth wailed in despair and the walker's rotting teeth snapped against the collar of her shirt. Another one was clawing at her shirt tail and trying to pull her closer in order to eat her.

Everything was happening so fast. Where the hell had these walkers come from? Carl hauled Beth to her feet as he shoved another walker back away from them. A strong but dead hand grabbed his shoulder and he jerked away from it and jumped backward into another walker. "Run" he shouted. "We have to get to the house!"

"They're blocking the way! There's too many of them!" Beth screamed. Carl grabbed her hand and glanced at her quickly. Her eyes were filled with frightened tears and her shirt was ripped and dirty where the walkers had grabbed at her. Carl thought she was beautiful in spite of the dirt and tears and he was hit with an overwhelming desire, no, not a desire, an overwhelming _need_ to protect her at all costs. "Follow me!" he said as he pulled her so she stood behind him as the walkers advanced on them. There had to be at least thirty of them. Where had they come from and how did they get into the yard? Carl gave Beth's hand a squeeze. "I'm going to distract them so you can get inside. No matter what happens" he said, "keep running until you're inside the house. Do not stop! Not for anything!"

Beth's eyes widened and she shook her head and opened her mouth to protest but Carl gave her a grin before she could say a word and he turned to face the walkers and yelled, "Let's _go_!"

.


	27. Chapter 27

**This is a short chapter, but I'll make it up to you with the next one. I promise!**

Merle, Daryl and Hershel heard Beth scream. Merle went to grab one of the Rugers on Daryl's dresser but decided to grab Daryl's Bowie knife instead. He yanked it out of its leather sheath and turned towards the door. Daryl was right beside him and he grabbed both of the Blackhawks off the dresser and popped the loading gates open on them to make sure they loaded. Merle was out the door and on the porch in a second and Daryl grabbed a box of shells and hobbled after him as quickly as he could. Hershel came out onto the porch after them just as Daryl was tossing the box of .44 shells onto the bench next to the entrance to his room.

There were probably thirty walkers in the back yard and Merle leaped off the porch and started driving the Bowie knife into the skulls of the hungry, snarling things. He wished he was wearing his bayonet attachment as he drove the knife through the hole left when the nose had rotted off the walker he was engaging. He heard the roar of Daryl's Blackhawks and he was suddenly covered with foul-smelling green and yellow liquefied brains as the head of the walker he hadn't seen reaching for him exploded next to him.

"Watch yourself, Merle!" Daryl hollered from the porch and then Merle heard the revolvers go off again.

"I am, now get back inside!" Merle hollered to Daryl as he heard those damned revolvers go off simultaneously yet again. Most of the walkers had been shuffling toward the chicken coop and the garage but now they turned and headed towards the sound of Daryl's guns.

Merle tackled a towering and rather fresh looking walker, putting all of his weight and strength behind his attack. His right shoulder crashed into the walker's stomach with a sickening squelching noise and the big former man groaned and reached wildly for Merle, it's gnarled hands grasping at air as it fell backwards into the walkers behind it. The group of walkers behind the tall one toppled like dominoes after the tall one Merle had knocked over fell into them and Merle laughed aloud as he leaped over and around the hideous, fallen creatures and ran toward where Beth's screaming was coming from.

* * *

The gunshots and commotion could be heard throughout the house and the other members of the group reacted quickly. Andrea ran out onto the porch from the kitchen with her Ladysmith in her hand and immediately started shooting walkers. "How did they get into the yard?" she shouted over to Daryl as she shoved a new loaded clip into her pistol. She did a double take and her eyes widened when she noticed he was wearing only his boxer briefs.

"How the hell should I know?" he barked and he fired again at the walkers.

Maggie came running out of Daryl's room and nearly crashed into her father. "What's going.." she stopped speaking as her eyes took in the chaotic scene before her. "How…how did?" Shit, had she forgotten to close the gate when she was unloading Merle's truck? No. She distinctly remembered closing it and checking to make sure it was secure.

They all heard Merle yelling and cussing from around the back of the garage and then Beth was screaming again.

Hershel hollered, "Beth!" and started for the porch steps.

"No, daddy!" Maggie exclaimed as she and Daryl each grabbed one of his arms and held him back.

"I'll go," Daryl said as he took a step toward the stairs.

"No!" Hershel said firmly and he and Maggie each grabbed one of Daryl's arms in the same manner that Daryl and Maggie had done with him. Andrea jogged down the steps and out into the group of walkers, firing head shots as she went.

Merle suddenly came into view from around the side of the garage carrying Beth in his arms as she clung tightly to him, her arms wrapped around his neck. Carl came running right behind him and they dodged walkers that reached for them and leaped over the ones on the ground that had been put down for good.

"C'mon Merle!" Daryl yelled from the porch.

A walker that was lying on the ground trapped beneath two that had fallen on top of it reached out and grabbed Merle's ankle as Merle rushed by and Merle stumbled, but recovered before he could fall. Merle straightened up and miraculously, he hadn't dropped or let go of Beth who responded to the jolt by burying her head into Merle's neck and bawling like a baby. He brought up his steel toe booted foot and brought it down on the snapping walker's head, caving it's face in with a satisfying 'crack' as the thing's brittle facial bones broke. He tightened his grip on Beth. "Ssshh darlin'," he said to her, trying his best to sound reassuring. "You're okay. Ol' Merle ain't gonna let none a them big bad monsters getcha."

Beth nodded into his neck. Never in a million years did she think she'd find words uttered by Merle Dixon to be comforting, but they were and she was equally surprised at how completely safe she felt in the big, foul-mouthed, disgusting pig's muscular arms.

* * *

Carl had run ahead of Merle and Rick and Lori burst out the kitchen door together, both looking flushed, disheveled and confused and Carl leaped up onto the porch and ran into their arms.

Merle deposited Beth quickly on the porch and Hershel hurried to embrace her. "Are you okay? You didn't get bitten did you?" he asked urgently.

"I…..I didn't. Merle…he…" Beth stuttered. "I'm…I...I didn't get bitten."

"Gimme one a your six-shooters," Merle ordered Daryl. "and then get your naked self in the damned house!"

Daryl slapped one of his guns into Merle's waiting hand. "Only six shots, make 'em count and I ain't naked, jackass!" he snarled.

"With them briefs on you might as well be." Merle shot back and he turned and jogged toward where Andrea was shooting walkers as they closed in on her.

Daryl lowered his head and closed his eyes. His vision had been clouding up for the last couple of minutes and now the dizziness was back.

* * *

Maggie looked at Daryl and watched as he swayed slightly to the left and then to the right. She reached out and put her hand on one of his shoulders and he jumped. "Come inside," she said quietly, "you're dizzy and just about everyone else is here now. Beth and Carl are safe and Merle and Andrea have things under control."

"But.." Daryl started.

"Yes" Maggie said and she smiled. "what you're wearing right now makes your butt look very attractive. Now come on inside with me, Tiger." He blushed and she took his hand.

"Just a minute," he said and he paused to look over his shoulder at the others. Rick had drawn his Python and was checking the chambers as he stepped down the stairs to help Merle and Andrea with the walker executions as Lori fussed over Carl and checked him all over for cuts or bites.

Beth was still in her father's embrace as Hershel spoke softly to her and stroked her hair and she had stopped crying.

Merle was hooting and hollering and having _way_ too much fun killing walkers now that everyone appeared to be safe and Daryl noticed with a bit of amusement how Andrea would steal glances at his older brother every once in a while with a sly grin on her face.

Daryl turned back to Maggie and she smiled at him again. God, she had a beautiful smile. "You ready to go inside now?" she asked and she lightly squeezed his hand.

He nodded and let her lead him to the door and followed her into his room.

* * *

Rick shot a walker that had been a young man in the head, causing it to explode in a spray or vile smelling fluids and tissue chunks. He was making his way over to the back yard gate to close it and noticed that there were more walkers milling around by the parked cars and others still advancing down the driveway towards the house. Who the hell had left the back yard gate open? Maggie had been bringing things in from Merle's truck. Surely, she wouldn't be that careless would she? The driveway gate was obviously open as well.

Rick scowled. Had Merle opened the gates to try to sabotage the house? Maybe he had told his friends at Woodbury about the house and had left the gates open so they could have easy access to it and take it with a surprise attack. Rick shot the two walkers advancing on the gate as he closed and locked it and then he noticed something. Something extremely surprising and even more disturbing. The Hyundai was gone.

* * *

Carol wasn't sure if she was seeing things or not. Hershel had been making her take pills every day since she had tried to help Daryl take his rightful place in heaven and maybe they caused hallucinations. She wasn't sure if the man she saw up ahead standing next to what looked like Daryl's old blue truck and waving his arms at her was real or not. Her handbag was on the passenger seat and she slid her hand into it and felt around. She had forgotten to bring a gun or any kind of weapon with her. Hershel and the others at the house had watched her like a hawk and she had not been allowed access to any weapons and the war room had been kept under lock and key since she had shot up Daryl's bathroom and then shot Rick.

Carol flipped the button to lock all the doors and rolled the passenger side window down about an inch as she slowed to a stop next to the man who was now shouting at her excitedly.

"Oh, thank God, thank God. I thought I was a goner." the man said and Carol noticed with some sympathy that he was practically in tears. He reached for the door handle and a look of terror came over his face as he pulled up on it and realized that the door was locked. "Oh, Lady, please, you gotta let me in!" he cried and he turned and looked behind him at the group of walkers advancing towards him. They were within a hundred feet of him.

"No, I don't." Carol said to him.

"Please lady, for the love of God, let me in! I won't hurt you! I'm unarmed and I've been stuck here for hours. I've been sittin' in the truck but now the biters have broken the passenger window and it's just a matter of time before they can get to me! Please, help me!"

"Where did you come from?" Carol asked as she watched the walkers behind the man getting closer.

"I came from Woodbury, I was out searching for supplies and.."

A walker behind him snarled as it closed the distance between them and the man let out a whimper.

Carol flipped the switch and the Hyundai's doors unlocked. "Get in." she said.

The man yanked the car door open and jumped into the vehicle, slamming the door behind him. Seconds later there was a bang on the passenger window and a female walker in a tattered pink dress pressed her decaying face against the glass. Her dead eyes widened and she scratched at the window with claw like gray-green fingers.

"That was close." Carol said as she hit the gas and pulled away from the hungry, foul creature.

The man leaned his head back on the headrest and inhaled deeply. "You're tellin' me." he said as he held his hands up in front of him. They were still trembling. "Thank you so much. You just saved my life. I thought I for." He lowered his shaking hands into his lap and added, "This has been a really crappy day for me."

Carol glanced over at him and gave him a small smile. "Things are looking up now for you, though. Right?" she said.

The man raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Yes," he said. "They certainly seem to be."

Carol swerved around a small group of walkers blocking part of the roadway as they stumbled and lurched toward the sound of the Hyundai. "I'm Carol," she said. "What's your name?"

The man looked at Carol warily. "Leonard Jackson," he said, "but everyone calls me Lenny."

Carol nodded as she kept her eyes on the road. "I helped you, Lenny and now I need your help." she said.

"I'd be happy to do whatever I can to help you, ma'am." Lenny said. "I'm truly grateful that you stopped for me and I owe you. Big time."

"Well aren't you just the gentleman!" Carol exclaimed. "and I'm glad that I picked you up because I'm actually on my way to Woodbury to see if I will be allowed to become part of the community there."

"No kiddin'?!" Lenny exclaimed. "Did you find one of them flyers that was left in a lot of deserted towns or did someone leave a note tellin' you they 'd gone there? You got family in Woodbury?"

"No family there." Carol said and then sadly added, "I've lost all my family. My husband. My daughter. My friends."

Lenny slowly and cautiously reached over and then patted Carol on the shoulder in what he hoped she would take as a comforting gesture before returning his hand to his lap. "I'm so sorry. I know how that feels. Lost my wife, my twin girls and my baby boy to the biters. Just about everyone in Woodbury has lost someone and some have lost everyone. You'll fit right in and you'll love it. We're safe behind the walls and we celebrate life there. We all work together and help each other out and it really is like one big family. Tell you what, when we get there, I'll take you to see the man in charge. We call him the governor. He's responsible for creating what we have at Woodbury and he oversees how things. He's a good man, you'll like him and I'm sure he'll be happy to have a new member joining our community." He paused for a few seconds and then added, "People need to stick together now to survive."

"That sounds wonderful, Lenny." Carol said. "I've been alone for so long and I really need to be around people again."

They drove in silence for the next five minutes and then Carol slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. She shut off the engine.

Lenny looked out the window nervously. What was going on? Was she going to order him to get out of the vehicle? He felt his heartbeat speed up and he broke out into a nervous sweat.

Carol turned to Lenny and smiled. "Lenny," she said sweetly. "Would you mind driving? You know the way to Woodbury and I'd feel much more comfortable if you were at the wheel when we show up there."

Lenny felt a wave of relief wash over him and he laughed. "I would be happy to drive," he said. He waited until Carol exited the vehicle before he stepped out on his side, just to make sure she wasn't planning on taking off once he got out of the vehicle and leaving him stranded. They both met at the front of the vehicle and Carol surprised Lenny when she grabbed his wrist and said. "Thank you, Lenny. I'm so glad I stopped for you." She surprised him even more when she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug. He wasn't sure what to do, so he hugged her back and then she looked up and smiled at him.

"I'm glad you stopped for me, too." Lenny said. Carol gave him a squeeze and then released him from the hug and he released her and they both walked to the opposite car doors and entered the vehicle. Lenny started the car and looked over at Carol. "Are you ready for me to take you to your new home?" he asked with a smile.

"More than you could ever imagine." Carol replied.

Lenny shifted the little car into 'drive' and stepped on the accelerator. He couldn't help but to smile. Carol had saved him and he was going home and damn, but it felt good to be alive and homeward bound.

**I can actually hear the collective groans of you Maggie/Daryl fans out there. (Both of you.) "When are we going to see some alone time between Maggie and Daryl?" In the next chapter. Maybe. Okay, definitely**. **Thanks for reading!**


	28. Chapter 28

Lori released Carl from her embrace. "Let's go inside where it's safe." she said as she took his hand and moved towards the door to the kitchen.

Carl was going to protest, but then he saw that Hershel was approaching the door, too, with his arm protectively around Beth who had finally gotten herself under control. He slipped his hand from his mother's and turned to Hershel and Beth who were now standing directly behind him.

"Are you okay?" he asked Beth.

Beth nodded. "I am now." she sniffed, wiping away tears. "I really thought we were going to be eaten! How about you? Are you okay?" she asked.

Carl nodded.

There was more gunfire from behind them followed by a loud stream of colorful profanity that Hershel was sure could make people's ears bleed. "We can talk more inside," he said as he gently nudged Beth towards the door.

Hershel opened the kitchen door and held it open for Beth, Lori and Carl and then followed them inside. He closed the door behind him as another profanity laced shout followed by more gunfire pierced the air.

"Merle sure swears a lot," Carl observed as he followed his mother and Beth through the dining room and into the living room.

"He sure does," Lori agreed.

"More even than Daryl does." Carl continued, "Their mom and dad must not have raised them up to know it isn't polite. It kinda makes me feel sorry for them." He turned to his mother and gave her a hug. "I know I get mad sometimes when you and dad discipline me, but now I understand what you mean when you say you do it because you care about me. If you didn't care about me, you wouldn't care about how I talked or behaved. I don't think Merle and Daryl's parents cared very much about them."

Lori blinked. Carl's observation certainly came as a surprise. She wanted to say that some people just turn out rotten no matter how they were raised, but she kept the thought to herself.

There was the sound of footfalls on the stairs and everyone in the living room looked up in time to see Glenn jogging down the stairs.

"I heard gunshots! Are we being attacked? Is everyone okay?" he asked.

Beth broke from where she stood holding her father's arm and ran to Glenn and embraced him. "Where were you?" she asked as she quickly released him from the hug.

Glenn's cheeks flushed red. "Um…I…uh…" he stuttered. He looked around at the others in the room. Hershel, Lori and Carl all wore expectant and curious looks on their faces.

"There were walkers in the yard." Hershel said. "The shooting started several minutes ago. You didn't hear it?"

The rest of Glenn's face reddened to match his cheeks. "Um….I was going to go with Merle and Andrea back to the farm…and Merle insisted that…Merle said we couldn't go unless we used the bathroom first and I just…I had to….and I had my iPod ear buds in so…"

Carl snorted and then erupted into laughter. "So what you're saying is that you were listening to music and taking a dump and you didn't hear anything, right?" he giggled.

"Carl!" Lori and Beth both scolded at the same time.

Hershel shook his head. He'd have to pull Carl aside one of these days and teach him that some things were better left unsaid.

"Is everyone alright?" Glenn asked again, mostly because he really wanted to know but partly to change the subject as well.

"Merle saved us." Beth said. "Carl and I were trapped and Carl, you were so brave!"

Now it was Carl's turn to blush.

"Carl was going to try to draw the walkers away from me," Beth explained, "but then Merle appeared out of nowhere and he…he just…he was amazing. What he did…"

"He kicked walker _ass_ is what he did!" Carl exclaimed.

Beth nodded in agreement, but she did not look happy. "I think…I think he got bit," she said. "His arm….I saw it happen. I saw it bite his arm. It would have bitten me, but then he…." Tears started to run down her cheeks again and she hugged her father. "Oh, daddy, it's all my fault."

"Wait," Glenn said. "Merle got bitten? Merle?"

Lori, Hershel and Glenn exchanged concerned looks.

"I'm sure it's not your fault, kitten." Hershel quietly said to Beth as she cried into his shoulder.

Glenn shook his head in disbelief. "Damn, he and Daryl just found each other and he hasn't even been here for a whole day yet."

Hershel patted Beth's back and led her to one of the couches. "Come sit down with me." he said to her. He hoped that it wasn't true, that Beth was confused and that Merle hadn't been bitten. If he had, Hershel knew that Daryl was going to be devastated.

From the little he had seen of him, Hershel had surmised that Merle was coarse, tough, stubborn and rough around the edges, more so than his younger brother, but he was also strong and brave and Hershel would much rather have Merle fighting for the group than against them. He would have to ask Merle if he could take a look at the bite. There was no avoiding it.

Hershel wasn't just concerned about Daryl's reaction to Merle's potential death sentence, he was concerned about Daryl as well. He hadn't completely assessed Daryl's condition yet, but he was very worried about the change in Daryl's vision and the confusion he'd experienced, both indicators of more serious brain damage. It seemed that the man just couldn't catch a break.

Hershel was worried about Maggie, too. Maggie had insisted that Daryl was still alive and she had been right, and she had made it perfectly clear that she was in love with the hunter. What would happen if Daryl took a turn for the worse and they ended up actually losing him this time? Would Maggie be strong enough to handle that? And what would happen, too, if Daryl actually recovered and wanted to leave again? Would he end up breaking Maggie's heart by refusing to take her with him, or would he end up breaking Hershel's heart by taking his eldest daughter somewhere far away from what was left of her family? No matter how events ended up playing out, Hershel realized with sadness, someone was going to get hurt.

Beth sat on the couch next to her father and Carl plopped himself down on the couch next to her. Lori sat next to Carl and Glenn looked over his shoulder towards the hallway.

"Maggie's in with Daryl." Hershel said as if reading Glenn's mind.

"Good," Lori said under her breath, "Maybe she can get him to put some clothes on."

Glenn raised his eyebrows. "What?!"

Carl smiled and shifted on the couch. "Daryl was out on the porch in his underpants shooting walkers!" he exclaimed. "It was actually pretty cool!"

Hershel couldn't keep quiet. "In his defense, I was examining him when we heard Beth screaming. He and Merle just jumped up and grabbed their weapons and were out the door. Attire was the last thing on his mind, I'm sure and he appeared to be quite embarrassed when he realized his state of undress in front of everyone outside. Normally, Daryl Dixon is modest to a fault."

"It's because of his scars." Carl said. "Dad says he's got lots of them and he doesn't like anyone to see them."

"Dad's got a big mouth." Lori said.

* * *

"Merle!" Rick hollered as he walked toward where Merle and Andrea were dragging walkers to what was going to be a very large burn pile.

Merle tossed the walker he had been dragging up onto the pile and turned to face Rick as Rick quickly closed the distance between them. "What seems to be the problem, officer?" Merle asked and then he grinned. "Shit, it's been a long time since I've said that and it used to be one of the most common phrases in my vocabulary."

"The problem is that the gates were opened. Do you have any idea how that happened?"

Merle put his hand and the end of his stump on his hips and cocked his head. "Well…" he said, "usually opening a gate involves a key if there's a lock. See, the person unlocking the gate needs the key in order to..."

"Stop being a smartass." Rick snapped.

"Hey," Merle said raising his arms part way in a defensive gesture, "I was just answering your stupid question and I always prefer bein' a smartass to bein' a dumbass."

"Did you open the gates?" Rick asked point blank.

Merle narrowed his eyes at Rick. "No, I did not open the gates. Why the hell would I do that? You're the only one here I got a beef with and I sure as hell wouldn't endanger my brother just to get at you. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, Barney, but I ain't the dullest one, neither."

Andrea caught the end of Merle's statement as she dragged a female walker up to the pile and dropped it. She looked at Merle and then at Rick. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Barney Fife here was askin' if I'd sabotaged the place and let the walkers in." Merle explained.

"What?" Andrea glared at Rick. "Merle has been inside since we got here."

"Sshhhh….now just calm down, Goldilocks. I don't need you to be stickin' up for me. I'm a big boy, I can handle this by myself."

Rick sighed. "Okay, I'm just trying to figure things out here. The Hyundai is gone. Any thoughts on that?"

Merle and Andrea looked at each other and then at Rick.

"We were going to take it and go back to the farm. We left Daryl's crossbow there." Andrea said.

"So who took it? It had to be someone with access to the keys." Rick said, mostly to himself.

Merle snorted. "That's easy. Who's missin'? I ain't seen the guy with the fishin' hat or the mouse for a spell. Me, Goldilocks here an' China, we was all goin' back to the farm and I told 'em to use the facilities before we left. I saw Glenn head for the bathroom with his music playin' gadget thing and a magazine, so I bet he was in the bathroom when all hell broke loose out here."

"Dale was going to take a bath." Andrea said.

Merle chuckled. "Y'all sure like oversharin', don't you?"

Rick ran his hand through his hair. "Carol? Would Carol have takin' the Hyundai? And where would she go?" He looked from Andrea to Merle and then at the house. "I'm going to go and see if Carol is missing. I'll be back and I'll get everyone else out here to help with disposal.

"Sounds good. Y'all got any hot dogs here? Maybe some marshmallows? Gonna be a bigass fire and it'd be right fun to roast some hotdogs." Merle said.

Rick turned and jogged toward the house.

Andrea gave Merle a playful shove. "You're kidding, right? The smoke from this fire is going to smell so bad you're not going to want to get anywhere near the fire, let alone cook anything over it, and stop calling me Goldilocks."

"Well, damn, woman. You said I aint' allowed to call you Sugar Tits. I thought Goldilocks was one you'd like."

"Okay, have it your way…Stubby." Andrea replied as she walked toward a dispatched walker's body.

"Hey!" Merle called after her. "If 'Sugar Tits' is off limits, then 'Stubby' is, too, dammit!"

* * *

Rick stormed in through the kitchen and ran through the dining room. He stopped abruptly in the living room and the discussions in the room came to a halt as all eyes focused on Rick.

Rick glanced around the room and then looked directly at Hershel and asked, "Where is Carol?"

The eyes in the room turned to look at Hershel and he cleared his throat. "I spoke with her about two hours ago up in the office on the third floor. She was knitting and said she might pick out a book to read later. Why? Is there a problem?"

Rick ran his hand through his hair and then put his hands on his hips. He nodded. "Oh yeah. There's a problem alright. A very big problem."

Hershel looked concerned and Lori spoke up and said, "Great. Now we have another big problem in addition to Merle."

Rick scowled. "Merle is not a problem. Not yet, anyway. The problem is that the Hyundai is gone and I think Carol took it. If she did, she more than likely is the one that left the gates open as well."

"I showed Merle the office and no one was in there then," Glenn volunteered.

Hershel leaned back on the couch where he sat. "She's going to Woodbury." he said.

"What?!" Rick and Glenn exclaimed at the same time.

"Why would she do that?" Rick asked.

Hershel closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry. I should have seen this coming. When Maggie and Glenn came back from Woodbury, Carol started asking me all kinds of questions about the town. She said a couple of times that it would do her good to be around other people. Correction, different people." Hershel raised his head and looked around at the others in the room. "I hadn't said anything about this because I didn't want to disturb anyone, but when Maggie and Glenn came back from Woodbury with news about Daryl's demise, she was delighted. She said she feared him and that because he'd been bitten, it was just a matter of time before he turned and attacked everyone here. I don't think it's a coincidence that she left after Daryl showed up here today."

* * *

Maggie watched Daryl as he placed his Ruger on the dresser. There was a two inch long cut across the middle of his spine that sat in the center of a large reddish purple bruise and there were several new bruises spread across his back. The demons tumbling down from his right shoulder blade were dark with bruises so that she could barely make them out and Maggie squinted when she thought she saw caught a glimpse of something on the back of Daryl's neck peeking out from under his shaggy hair.

Andrea had cut his hair a couple weeks earlier, but it was still a bit on the long side. Maggie thought it looked damned good that way.

When Daryl looked down at his hands, the motion of tilting his head down exposed enough of the back of his neck for Maggie's suspicions to be confirmed. Burns. There were cigarette burns on the back of Daryl's neck. Maggie was horrified. What the hell else had happened to him while he was being held at Woodbury? She wasn't sure she wanted to know and she felt revulsion, sadness and anger rising up inside of her. How dare those assholes hurt Daryl like that!

Daryl looked over his shoulder at her and said, "Gonna go wash the gunpowder offa my hands." He started to hobble toward the bathroom and Maggie watched as he slowed to a stop and swayed slightly and then reached out and steadied himself by placing his hand on the door casing. She was going to offer to help him, but before she could offer to or step forward, he grumbled, "I'm alright. A little dizzy is all."

She smiled a small smile. When had he developed the ability to read her mind?

"You know," he said, "you can leave if you want. I suspect your dad will be comin' in here pretty soon to finish checkin' me over." He turned to look at her for a second before disappearing into the bathroom.

Maggie bit her lower lip. Did he want her to leave? Had she done something wrong? She heard the water in the bathroom sink running a moment later and then jumped a bit as she heard Daryl gasp and then quietly utter a few profanities. She wanted to jump up and run into the bathroom and see what had happened and if he was okay, but dammit, he didn't like to be smothered or coddled so she sat where she was, hoping against hope that he would call out to her so she could rush to his side and help fix whatever the problem was.

* * *

Daryl grit his teeth and looked down at his bleeding right hand. He had accidently smacked the governor's artwork carved into the base of where his pinky finger had once been attached against the edge of the vanity as he shook the water off his hands after washing them. Pain had shot from the carved 'x' all the way up his arm to his damned shoulder and he felt like he'd been hit by lightning. He'd jumped back and almost fallen flat on his ass. Now he looked at the bleeding mark across the base of his missing finger and then looked into the mirror. He could see the newly bruise surrounded, raised, pearl white 'x' scar between his sternum and his left nipple in the reflection in the mirror. "Well ain't that nice," he said to himself, "a matchin' pair." His vision started to shift and he grabbed the vanity with both hands to steady himself, smacking his hand on the edge of the vanity again. "_Shit_!" he snarled as he winced again. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Was Maggie out there listening to him carry on like a hurt little kid? Was she even still out there, or had he scared her off with how awful he looked and his offer for her to leave before Hershel arrived?

He looked himself over in the mirror. Damn, but he was a mess. His hair stuck out all over the place, his nose looked slightly out of joint and both of his eyes were puffy and ringed with bruises. His lips were split and his cheeks, his chin and his neck sported abrasions and bruises of various shapes and colors. The cut beneath his right eye had developed a thick, ragged black scab over it and his chest and his arms and legs were bruised. His right ankle was swollen and bruised and his thighs even sported large bruises. He took a good look at his face and his body in the mirror and he bowed his head. God, he was grotesque. If he could hardly stand to look at himself in the mirror without being disgusted, he was sure that Maggie had to find him totally revolting. She was probably completely disgusted with his battered body and that awful looking face of his. Yes, he was sure she was. She had to be if she was at all normal.

He was sure that she was also disgusted with him for grabbing her like some stupid love struck teenager and sucking her face half off in the presence of Andrea and Merle and that jackass from Woodbury. She had probably been horrified when his ugly, beat up face had rushed at her and he'd pushed his broken lips hard against her soft full ones. What could he say? He was caught up in the heat of the moment. He'd been afraid of what might happen to her and once Morey had been taken care of and he could see that Maggie was alright, he couldn't help himself. He had been so fucking relieved and dammit, he supposed that he loved her, but what the hell had he done? He knew he'd embarrassed her and she was probably going to tell him how disgusted and upset she was with him and that she'd realized what a complete jackass he was and yes, she would look after him and take care of him until he was better, because that was just what she did, but that outside of that, she wanted nothing to do with him.

* * *

Maggie pulled down the blue quilt and piled the last of the pillows at the head of the bed. Daryl was obviously having some dizziness issues and he needed to lie down, whether he wanted to or not. The bathroom door opened and he stepped into the room, holding on to the wall for support. He looked at where Maggie was seated on his bed and froze.

She patted the bed next to her where the sheets and blankets had been pulled aside. "Come sit down, Tiger."

Daryl bit his bottom lip before he moved his left thumb close to his mouth and started worrying the edge of his thumb nail with his teeth. He staggered over to the bed and sat himself down, being careful not to sit too close to her and he folded his hands into his lap.

"We really need to talk a bit, and I have a couple of things I want to say to you" she said and she was surprised when Daryl closed his eyes and nodded and then lowered his head.

He dreaded hearing what she wanted to say to him, but he decided he'd take it like a man. He'd left her behind when he left to find Merle and he had no right to expect anything from her but animosity.

"I figured you would." he said quietly. "and to be honest, I'm dreadin' what you're gonna say, but first I wanna say I'm sorry. I din't mean to embarrass you or make you uncomfortable. I was just real glad to see you an' I guess….I guess I got carried away." He peeked over at her and took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry an' I understand if you're mad."

Maggie's mouth dropped open. "Mad?" she said. "_Mad?_ What the hell are you talking about?"

Daryl fidgeted and started chewing at this thumb nail again. "I'm talkin' 'bout how I behaved back in the barn. Grabbin' you an' kissin' you like that. Right in front a everyone. Musta embarrassed the hell outta you."

Maggie reached out and took Daryl's left hand in her right one. "Look at me." she said.

Daryl dropped his eyes and looked at the floor.

"Daryl," Maggie said firmly. "Look at me."

"Don't want to. Don't know if I could stand to see the disappointment in your eyes."

Maggie thought he sounded completely miserable. She leaned against him and gently placed her hands on his face and raised his head and turned it towards her. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Daryl, look at me. Please."

Daryl slowly raised his eyes to meet hers and he was taken aback by what he saw in them. Those beautiful gray green eyes didn't express any hint of disappointment or anger, but they did convey a feeling of concern and sadness. Then she smiled and he saw something else in them, something raw and beautiful and meant only for him.

"I love you. I love you so very, very much and when you kissed me back at the barn I'd never been happier. Even with the awful things going on all around us, I was so happy to see you. I was so happy to see that you were still alive and then you saved me, yet again. Please, don't ever regret that kiss because it was truly the best kiss of my life."

Daryl's bloodshot blue eyes locked with hers and he could see in her eyes that she meant what she was saying, but how could she? "But I look so grotes…"

Maggie put a finger to her lips. "Shhhh. You just hush, my Tiger. Even all beat up like this, you are the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on and I love everything about you."

Daryl snorted. "Me? I'm gross! I'm missin' a finger an'."

Maggie leaned in and softly kissed his lips. "I know. You lost it saving my life yet another time. I wouldn't be sitting here if it weren't for you. You've made so many sacrifices and you need to know that I love you. I love you with all my heart and nothing is going to change that. _Nothing_. Can't you understand that? You could have come back looking like Quasimodo and I wouldn't love you any less."

She ran the fingers of her right hand lightly through his hair as she looked into his eyes. "You can't leave me again." she said quietly. "I'll just die without you. I need to be where you are. If you decide you want to go to Maine, I'm going with you. If you decide to stay here, I'm staying here with you. I'm only half a person without you. I love you and I'm not going to let go of you again." She raised her eyebrows when Daryl's eyes shifted their gaze to the right and then jerked back to focus on her.

"Are you dizzy?" she asked him.

He wanted to question her further. Why did she love him? How could she? Was she nuts?, but his mind had started doing cartwheels so he closed his eyes and nodded. "I am. Dizzy and fuckin' tired as all hell, but it's so nice, bein' with you here. Thought you were mad at me. Maybe even hated me now. I know I wan't gone long, but I missed you so much." he said. "In Woodbury, when they were tryin' to get me to talk, to tell 'em where the guns and ammo and everything came from, all I had to do was think of you. I'd see that beautiful face a yours in my mind and it gave me the strength I needed. There was no way in hell I was ever gonna give up information on this place. Had to keep you safe, Mags. Had to keep you safe." Maggie saw a smile play about on his lips. "Can't believe I'm tellin' you all this."

"I'm glad you are, Tiger. I'm glad you are." Maggie patted the bed. "Lie down and rest a bit until daddy comes in to see you. You're exhausted. I'll be right here. I'm not going to go anywhere unless you want to be alone." she said.

Maggie slid off the bed and Daryl pulled his legs up onto it and Maggie pulled the sheet and the blue quilt over him. She leaned down to kiss him and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in closer. She was warm and soft and smelled like spring flowers. Lilacs, he thought, lilacs and tuberoses. He kissed her and then leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes. Damn, it felt so good to be back in his own bed. "Lie down next to me?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

Maggie smiled and crawled up onto the bed. She stayed on top of the sheets and pressed herself against Daryl's left side and rested her head on his shoulder.

"There's my girl." he murmured and he yawned and wrapped his left arm around her, pulling her closer. "Can't believe you care 'bout me. Don't deserve it" he muttered.

"Shhhh…you do deserve it and I don't just care about you. I'm crazy mad in love with you."

Maggie watched as a full blown smile appeared on Daryl's bruised and battered face and remained there for nearly a full minute before it slowly disappeared as his breathing deepened and his arm slid from her waist.

Maggie was content to lie there, feeling his warm body next to hers and hearing him breathe. She thought of how less than twenty four hours ago she was feeling such pain and despair over the loss of the man she loved and now here he was, asleep next to her and damn, she was so incredibly happy now. She swore then and there that she would never leave him. Never again would they be apart, she told herself. At least not until death took one of them.

**So was that over-the-top-corny? Yes? No? I don't know? I've always said romance isn't my genre, but I have to admit, I am having some fun with it!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Warning: This chapter jumps around a bit. Okay, I fibbed. It jumps around a lot. Thank you so much for all the reviews and comments, a special thank you to the guests who review because I can't PM them when I want to thank them for the warm fuzzies they send my way. I'm going to try to update more often, but when the weather is nice, I tend to spend most of my free time on my motorcycle so we'll see how well that goes. Now, on to Chapter 29:**

Rick, Glenn, Dale and Carl tromped out onto the porch and then down the porch stairs. Andrea and Merle were still dragging walkers out to the burn pile and they were both wet with sweat and looking rather dirty and grimey.

"Y'all the second shift?" Merle asked. He was dragging a walker by its arm towards the second burn pile he and Andrea had started. "'Cause I could use a break and a nice cold beer," he finished as he threw the walker onto the pile and then wiped at the sweat on his brow with his left arm.

"Yes, we're here to take over and...," Rick said

"Sure you are." Merle said before Rick could finish. "Now that most a the work's done."

Andrea turned her head to hide the smile that appeared on her face. She knew without even looking that Merle had that damned smirk on his face.

Rick sighed. What was that saying about wrestling with a pig? He couldn't remember it off the top of his head. "You two go on inside and Merle, I think there's a twelve pack in the fridge. Should be nice and cold. Go sit on the back deck or go in swimming or whatever and thanks for taking care of most of this mess." He remembered the whole saying then. You never wanted to wrestle with a pig, because you'll both get dirty and only the pig will like it. The corner of his mouth twitched as a smile threatened. Merle certainly fit the 'pig' part to a tee.

"Did you solve the mystery of the missin' car?" Merle asked Rick as he and Andrea headed for the house.

"Carol took it." Rick said.

Merle's eyes got big. "We gotta go after her and stop her! We can't chance lettin' her make it to Woodbury!" he exclaimed.

"She's long gone by now and I don't think going after her is necessary." Rick said.

"Don't think it's necessary?! If she gets to Woodbury and tells the governor about this place, he'll be on us like flies on fresh cow shit!"

"So what?!" Rick practically shouted. "We held the place against a bunch of highly trained special ops soldiers! A bunch of townsfolk and a governor should be a piece of cake!"

Merle's large left hand shot forward and he grabbed Rick by the collar of his shirt and pulled Rick's surprised face in towards his until they were mere inches apart. Merle narrowed his eyes and growled, "You got no clue what you're up against. Not a fuckin' clue. The governor will come in here and level this place. Take everything and kill everyone here."

Rick glared at Merle. "Let go of me, Dixon," he said and Merle found himself looking down the barrel of Rick's Colt Python.

A smile spread across Merle's face and he released his hold on Rick and chuckled, but he didn't back away from him. "Okay. Whatever you say, but just know this. He will come and he will kill _everyone_." The smile left his face and he looked straight at Rick, meeting Rick's blue eyes with his own and said, "Now you listen to me. He'll kill your wife and your kid before he kills you, just so you can watch. He'll kill the old doc after he kills his daughters in front a him, and they'll probably be raped before they're killed. Your wife will probably get the same treatment. He'll kill my brother and it will be to punish me for leavin' and takin' what I did, so the governor will make sure Daryl dies slow and painful. Just for me." Merle took a step back. "That's who you're dealin' with, Rick. Be mindful of it."

Rick didn't speak and Merle gave him a look of disgust and then spit at the ground before following after Andrea. "I'd rather take on the whole damned National Guard than take on that bastard." Merle muttered as he walked away from Rick.

Rick rolled his eyes. They had learned their lesson when the group of hostile soldiers had attacked the house to try to take it from them. They were better prepared now and they would not be taken by surprise. He was sure he could handle an attack by a sleepy little sparsely populated town like Woodbury.

Dale, Glenn and Carl had witnessed the whole conversation between Merle and Rick and they all exchanged nervous glances as they walked towards the rest of the slain walkers still scattered here and there in the grass on the back lawn.

Rick turned and caught the men and his son looking at each other and stealing glances at him. "What, you think we should be worried about some fat-assed bureaucrat and a bunch of mild-mannered townsfolk?"

Carl didn't hesitate to speak up. "If Merle is worried about them? Hell yeah, I think we should be concerned!"

That didn't sit well with Rick and he threw up his hands in exasperation and yelled, "Look, for all we know, Merle could just be a spy sent here from Woodbury to see if we have anything worth taking and to assess how much of a fight we'd put up if we were attacked. It makes sense! Woodbury's governor is going to want to know if it will be worth his while to come after us."

Glenn looked at Rick and then back at the house where Andrea and Merle had disappeared through the kitchen door. "Rick….I don't know about that. I mean, according to Andrea and Maggie, Merle is in a lot of trouble for leaving Woodbury with everything they'd stolen from Daryl."

"That's just what Merle wants you all to think." Rick scoffed. "Why do you think Daryl's crossbow got left at the farm? Because Merle was planning on going back and meeting someone there and it would be a good cover story. 'Whoops, I left Daryl's crossbow behind, be back in a couple hours!' If y'all buy that line of bullshit, you're a lot more naïve than I thought! Now let's get the rest of these bodies on the burn piles and start us a nice big fire or two." Rick turned away from the two men and his son and kept walking. He stopped next to the first walker he came to and positioned himself at its feet, then turned around and crouched, grabbing both of its ankles. He straightened up and started dragging the walker toward the burn piles.

Dale, Glenn and Carl worked in silence to clear out the back yard. Glenn kept glancing at Rick and occasionally he would open his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then close it again. After fifteen minutes of stewing and thinking, he couldn't keep his thoughts to himself and he dropped the leg of the walker he was dragging and walked toward Rick who had just thrown another walker on the second burn pile.

Rick turned to see Glenn approaching him. The young man looked nervous and he was twisting his hat in his hands as he walked up to him. "Something bothering you, Glenn?" Rick asked, wishing after the fact that his tone hadn't reflected how perturbed he was.

Glenn's courage actually kicked in as Rick spoke to him. He wasn't a child, and dammit, Rick shouldn't talk to him in that tone of voice as if he'd just been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. "Yeah, something is bothering me." Glenn said as he sat his baseball cap firmly on his head and adjusted it. "What you said about Merle. You're wrong, Rick. Dead wrong."

Rick's eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows. Glenn had never been confrontational with him before. "No. No, I'm not Glenn." he said and started to turn away from the young man.

Glenn grabbed Rick's arm and instantly remembered what had happened when he'd pulled that move on Daryl a few days earlier. He was hopeful that Rick wouldn't react the same way Daryl had, but then again, Daryl had a quick temper and was easily agitated. Rick was much more level-headed. Usually.

"Hear me out!" Glenn demanded.

Rick turned back to Glenn and put his hands on his hips. "Okay," he said. "I'm listening."

Dale and Carl had stopped what they were doing and stood in the background, straining to hear what was being said.

"That stuff you said about Merle," Glenn started.

Rick folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah, what about it?"

Glenn took a deep breath and then said, "It's bullshit and seriously, you're wrong about him."

Rick glared at Glenn and Glenn continued.

"You met Merle for what, all of ten minutes? I talked to him at on the way to Woodbury, while we were at Woodbury and the on the way back to the farm from Woodbury. I talked with him here, too, when I was showing him around. I've spent a _lot_ more time with him than you have and I know him better than you do. I'm telling you, you're wrong about him. Merle may be an overbearing, sarcastic jerk, but he only wants what's best for Daryl. It was his idea to bring Daryl here, not to check the place out, but so Daryl could get the medical attention he needs. Did you see Daryl? Did you see the burns on the back of his neck and how beat up he is? The governor tortured him and gave orders to kill him. You think Merle wants to help that bastard now? After what was done to Daryl, there is no way Merle would bring the governor down on us."

"Look Glenn," Rick snapped, "I don't know…"

"That's right, Rick," Glenn interrupted. "You don't."

Rick glared at Glenn. "So just what are you saying? That I should _trust_ Merle Dixon?"

Glenn was losing his patience. "I'm saying that Merle isn't a threat! I'm saying he was right and that we should have gone after Carol. If she shoots her mouth off about this house and what we have here, we might end up having a battle on our hands and no matter how mild-mannered you might think Woodbury is, the guys I saw with automatic rifles guarding the walls there looked like they could hold their own in a confrontation. There are a lot more of them than us as well. More than the group of hostiles that tried to take us down, too."

Rick sighed. "Okay, so what do _you_ suggest we do?" he asked.

Glenn totally missed Rick's sarcastic tone so instead of feeling angry, he was relieved. He thought Rick was taking him seriously. "I suggest that we finish taking care of the walkers and then you call a meeting so we can plan for a possible attack. You know, let everyone know what we might be up against and get everyone's input and ideas."

* * *

"Merle?"

Merle had been walking across the living room towards the stairs when Hershel called out to him from the doorway the lead to the deck. He stopped and pivoted to face the older man. "Somethin' I can help you with, Doc?" he asked.

"Could I speak with you again in private for a few minutes?" Hershel asked as he crossed the room towards the older Dixon brother. "Maggie is in with Daryl and I'm going to go and finish examining him after we talk." he said before Merle could ask if Daryl was okay.

"Sure thing. Is there a problem?"

"I'm not sure," Hershel said as he motioned to the stairs. "Let's go up to the third floor den, shall we? I'm sure we can talk without interruptions there."

"I was just headed there." Merle said. "Gonna set up camp in there for the next few days."

Hershel followed Merle up the two flights of stairs to the third floor. As he walked behind him, he tried to get a look at Merle's arms to see if he could see any fresh blood on his clothing, but he was unable to get an unobstructed view of Merle's arms as they made their way to the den.

Merle held the door to the den open for Hershel and then entered the room and closed it behind him. He grinned as he looked around the room while Hershel seated himself on one of the couches. The deer heads and the mounted animals seemed to be looking at him with their dead, glass eyes. "Damn, I love this room." Merle said happily. He moved over to the couch where Hershel sat and sat on the opposite end. He brought his right leg up onto the couch and rested his right ankle on his left knee. "What's on your mind?" he asked Hershel.

Hershel looked into Merle's eyes and Merle could tell that something was bothering the old vet.

"Ah, there _is_ a problem." he said.

Hershel sighed. "I hope not. I'm not a man who likes to beat around the bush," he said to Merle, "so I'm just going to flat-out ask you. Merle, while you were saving my daughter from the walkers in the back yard, were you bitten? Because she seems to think that you were."

* * *

As they drove up to the gates of Woodbury, Carol was nearly overcome with excitement. She watched the five people standing up on the walls on both sides of the gate as they raised their weapons and pointed them at the small car she occupied. All but one girl guarding the gate were holding automatic rifles. The younger, dark-haired girl held a compound bow in her hands.

Jackson stuck his head out the window and hollered up to the sentinels on the walls. "It's me, Lenny Jackson. Open up!"

The rifles and the compound bow were immediately lowered and Carol saw a Hispanic man call down to someone on the other side of the gate. There was a sound of metallic banging and rattling and then the gate slowly opened.

Jackson drove the Hyundai through the gates and stopped to speak with the Hispanic man who had jumped down from the wall once the little car was safely inside the walls.

"Hey, Martinez," Jackson said to the man.

"Hey yourself," Martinez answered as he looked inside the vehicle and peered over at Carol. "Who do we have here?" he said as he pointed at Carol, "and where is Morey?"

Jackson gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Biters got Morey when he stepped outta the barn at that farm. There was a whole bunch of them. I was lucky to get away. Truck I took died on the roadside and I was damned lucky that this little lady came along when she did. Biters were tryin' to get into the truck and had broken a window."

"Damn." Martinez said as he shook his head. "I never thought I'd say this, but I feel bad for Morey. Being eaten alive is not how I wanna leave this world." He looked past Jackson and at Carol. "I'm Caesar Martinez," he said to her.

Carol smiled at the attractive Hispanic man with the big brown eyes. "Carol Pelletier," she said.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Carol." Martinez replied. "Jackson will escort you to the town hall and introduce you to the leader of our little town and then you'll probably get the grand tour." He grasped Jackson's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Glad you made it back, man." he said then he stepped away from the car and the Hyundai drove away from him and slowly made its way down the main street.

"The governor is gonna want to know where you came from and what your story is. Don't get nervous, though," Jackson said, "This is standard procedure for anyone who comes into town and wants to stay."

Carol nodded. She hadn't mentioned anything about Daryl and Merle or about recognizing Daryl's truck or Maggie and Glenn and their recent visit to Woodbury. She decided she would keep all that information to herself for now. She watched the townspeople walking down the sidewalks and doing yard work in front of their homes. Children rode bicycles and laughed and yelled to one another and an elderly couple was strolling hand in hand as they walked a miniature poodle. "This is wonderful." Carol said as she looked around. "It's like things used to be. I love it already."

Jackson smiled as he pulled the car into a diagonal parking space in front of a large brick and granite building with "Woodbury Town Hall" carved in stone over the pillared entrance and painted in black block letters on a neat white sign hanging from a post on the lawn.

Jackson jumped out of the car and then jogged around the front of the Hyundai and opened the passenger door for Carol.

She stepped out of the vehicle and to her delight, Jackson offered her his arm. "Your momma certainly raised herself a gentleman," Carol said as she took Jackson's arm and he escorted her up the white stone steps and into the building.

Carol was struck with the temperature difference as she stepped inside of the town hall. It was at least twenty degrees cooler and she could hear the quiet hum of air conditioners running. They had stepped into a waiting room of sorts. There was a large mahogany desk facing the door with a sign standing in front of it that said "Please check in" and a large carpeted space in front of it with several chairs and one couch placed against the walls. Beyond the desk was a wide hallway with gray marble floors. There were several doors with frosted glass windows in them lining the hallway and each door had a little sign above it identifying it. "Tax Dept." "Legal Dept." "Water Dept." and so on. No one was sitting behind the large desk and Carol was surprised when the reddish blonde haired man turned to her and said, "Could I ask you to sit down for a moment? I'm just going to go and make sure the governor is in and let him know you're here."

Carol nodded. "Of course. I'll be right here." she said as she seated herself on the couch. She watched as Lenny hurried past the desk and down the hall, his footsteps on the marble floor echoing in the seemingly empty building.

Lenny stopped at the last door on the right. There was no sign above the door. He fidgeted for a few seconds and then knocked on the door.

"Enter." said the governor's voice from inside the room and Lenny opened the door and stepped inside.

The governor was seated at a large desk and looking over some papers. He looked up at Lenny and then back down at the paperwork in front of him. "Did you find him?" he asked without raising his eyes.

"No, no we didn't and Morey…..Morey. We got trapped in the barn out at that farm by biters and Morey….he didn't make it."

The governor didn't look up. "Interesting." he said. "and it serves him right. He was supposed to stay here on gate duty and he switched with Martinez without letting anyone else know. Saves me the trouble of having to dole out any punishment to him I suppose." He chuckled and Jackson felt like the room had just gotten a lot colder.

"The truck died on the side of the road on my way back," Jackson explained. The biters came after me and they got the chickens we'd loaded into the truck bed. I thought I was a goner and some lady drove up in a little green car and stopped. I thought I was seeing things."

The governor looked up at Jackson. "Was she alone?"

Jackson nodded.

"Where is she now?" the governor asked. "You didn't take the car from her and just leave her, did you?"

Jackson shook his head vigorously. "Oh no, not at all. She had heard or read about Woodbury and was actually on her way to try to find us. She's out in the waiting area now. She said she lost her family and her friends and she's all alone."

"Bring her in." the governor said. "And then go tell Darla that I need her to get back to me in another hour with what we have ready and available for houses and apartments. After that, go home and put up your feet. It sounds like you've had enough excitement for one day."

"Thank you, governor." Jackson said and he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later Carol was escorted into the governor's office and then Jackson left to find Darla, the housing director.

The governor smiled warmly and extended his hand and took Carol's. "I'm the administrator of our quaint little town, but everyone calls me the governor. Mr. Jackson tells me that you came upon him while he was in quite a jam and that you saved him from a most unpleasant fate. I thank you for that. He is a valuable member of our community and it would have been a shame if we'd lost him today. Can I get you something cold to drink? I have lemonade and iced tea," he said as he motioned to the small refrigerator against the wall behind his desk. "Unfortunately, it isn't homemade. It's the canned variety."

Carol was quite thirsty. "I would love some lemonade." she said.

The governor removed a can of Country Time lemonade from the refrigerator and handed it to Carol and then motioned for her to sit down in one of the leather chairs next to his desk. He sat down and watched her open the can. "Tell me about yourself." he said. "Where were you going and where had you been? Are you traveling alone? Do you have any family?"

Carol laughed. "So many questions! I'm happy to answer all of them, but first, I have a question for you, if you don't mind."

"By all means," the governor said. "Go ahead and ask."

"Is there room for me here and would I even be allowed to stay here if I wanted to?"

The governor smiled. "There is plenty of room here and we are always looking for new, upstanding and hardworking citizens. I guess it all depends on what we can offer you and what you can offer us."

Carol nodded. "That seems fair enough." She told him about how she and her husband and daughter had met up with a sheriff's deputy and others as they were all leaving Atlanta after the dead started walking and how they had banded together. She went on to tell him that her husband had been killed when biters attacked their camp up in the hills one night. She described her husband Ed as being a kind and loving husband and father and said that she still missed him very much.

The governor listened with great interest when Carol told him about her twelve-year-old daughter, Sophia, running off into the woods and how the other law man that had joined their group, miraculously finding his wife and son were already a part of it, had found her but then _left her alone _to fend for herself in the woods. Carol told the governor it was because he wouldn't be able to run fast enough while carrying her to get away from the biters (he noticed that Carol called them walkers) so he had said he was trying to distract them. Carol went on to say that one of the men in the group had gone out into the woods every day trying to find Sophia and had almost been killed while looking for her.

When Carol got to the part about Sophia walking out of the barn as a walker, she started to cry and the governor got up and came around his desk and sat in the chair next to her and took her hands in his.

"The worst part..." Carol sobbed, "the worst part is that I tried to go to her..to run up and stop what I knew they were going to do and the man….the man that had tried so hard to find her…he grabbed me and threw me to the ground. He wouldn't let me go to my baby girl. He wouldn't let me…save her."

The governor felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes and he closed them in an attempt to keep them at bay. "But….how could you save her at that point? Wasn't it already too late?" he asked gently.

Carol wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "but it still hurts so much." She smiled through her tears and said, "You'll probably think this is crazy, but I just thought that maybe…if we could have put her back in the barn… You see, the man who owned the farm we were staying at had put his family members and friends in the barn after they'd turned and his daughters and friends were feeding them chickens and other animals, to keep them, well, not alive, but existing. He thought that a cure would eventually be found. If I had just been allowed to get my Sophia back into the barn and if I could have just fed her…then maybe….someday.."

"A cure would be found and you could have your little girl back." The governor finished.

Carol nodded and smiled through her tears. "Yes. Crazy, isn't it? But the man who left her alone in the woods after he'd found her. The lawman. He walked right up to her and shot her in the head. Right in front of all of us." She started crying again as the image of her daughter falling to the ground so clearly burned in her memory reappeared to haunt her.

The governor got on his knees in front of Carol and surprised her by pulling her into a hug. "It isn't crazy, wanting to keep your daughter alive until a cure is found." He whispered to her. "I understand, I understand more than you could know." He pulled away from her and smiled and Carol could have sworn that the tall man had tears in his eyes. "You see," he told her. "I have a daughter that was bitten, too."

Carol put a hand over her mouth for a second and them removed it and said. "Oh. Oh my….I'm so, so sorry." She wiped at her eyes and the governor handed her a tissue.

"There is someone I want to introduce you to." he said to her. "His name is Milton Mamet. He's a scientist and I think you'll find his work very interesting."

* * *

Merle laughed. "Yeah, I got bit, but din't break the skin or do no damage. Stupid thing bit right onto the metal cap and the brace coverin' part of the leather sleeve a my prosthesis. Here, take a look," he said as he reached over with his left hand and unbuckled the leather harnesses that held his hand-made prosthesis in place, then slowly pulled the piece of equipment off his arm. He propped the apparatus up against the couch and peeled the leather sock off his arm and then the cotton one that covered his stump beneath it. "See?" he said, rotating the arm back and forth. "No bites."

Hershel reached for Merle's arm. "May I?" he asked.

"Why, sure!" Merle said. "If you're lookin' for bodily injuries, though, you should check out the dumb bastard that bit onto me. Broke off a bunch of his teeth." Merle grinned at the memory of the cracking sound and the sight of pieces of decaying yellow-green teeth flying in all directions.

Hershel looked at Merle's arm and Merle held out the other one for him to look over as well. Hershel examined both of Merle's arms and spent a bit of time examining his stump. He sat back and said, "Everything looks fine. I want to thank you, too, for saving my daughter. My girls mean the world to me and you have my undying gratitude."

"Well, looks like we're even then." Merle said, "'cause what you done for my baby brother's earned you mine."

Hershel smiled. "Beth will be happy to hear that you weren't bitten. She was sure you were and she was terribly upset and lamenting that it was all her fault."

Merle reached out and grabbed Hershel's arm as he turned toward the door. "You tell 'er, doc, that even if I had been bit, it wouldn't a been her fault. I chose to run out there, she didn't make that choice. If I got bit, it'd be my own damn fault. Make sure she understands that. It's important." Merle saw the puzzlement on Hershel's face, so he elaborated. "Just in case she's ever in a situation like that again, much as we hope she never will be. If she is, though, an' someone chooses to help her an' does get bit, she needs to understand that somethin' like that ain't her fault. A young lady should never feel guilty 'cause of the free will actions of others." Merle nodded once and released Hershel's arm.

Hershel met the eyes of the older Dixon brother and then said. "I'll tell her. Thank you, Merle." As Hershel turned away again and reached for the door handle, Merle spoke again.

"Can I ask you 'bout somethin' before you go?" he asked.

"Of course."

"My brother and your other daughter." Merle hesitated for a second. "You okay with that? 'Cause I can see lots a reasons for you not to be."

Hershel raised his eyebrows and then said, "I'm okay with that." He smiled at Merle and then left the room.

* * *

Maggie laid on her right side with her head propped up on her right hand as she gently ran her left index finger from the top of Daryl's forehead, down his nose and across the middle of his lips to his chin. Her finger barely touched his skin as she skimmed it down his neck onto his chest and down his sternum. She moved it slowly across the soft growth of hair on his chest and down his abdomen stopping at his navel. She smiled and slid her finger around his navel. "Look, Tiger, your belly button is growing a beard." she said quietly as her smile grew and she reversed direction and ran her finger back up across Daryl's stomach and to his chest and then it was gently sliding up his neck, over his chin and gliding over the curve of his nose.

She had pulled the covers down to his waist ten minutes ago when he had mumbled in his sleep and pushed the quilt aside. It was hotter in the room than it had been earlier and Maggie had gotten off the bed after pulling the bed linens down and turned the ceiling fan on before climbing back on the bed next to Daryl. She had been content to watch him sleeping at first but little by little the desire to touch him had overwhelmed her and not wanting to wake him, she had started to glide her finger gently across his skin, barely making contact. She smiled as her finger made its fourth trip across his chest. She decided that this desire, no, it was more than that, this _need_ to touch Daryl was rooted in her insecurity and her disbelief that he was actually alive and breathing and there with her. She pulled her finger away from him after its sixth partial tour of his body and she snuggled up next to him and rested her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating, strong and with a regular, soothing rhythm and she closed her eyes as she listened to it.

Her father would be in soon, she was sure, and then Daryl would have to wake up and she would step out of the room while her father finished examining him, but for now it was just the two of them and she was going to enjoy and appreciate every moment they had together. A smile spread across her face. _Every_ moment. Even the moments when Daryl was asleep beside her were moments to cherish because they were _together_. Now that he had confessed his feelings to her and she to him, things could only get better. Right?

.


	30. Chapter 30

**I think I kind of exceeded the recommended dosage of Merle in this chapter. Oh well. After what TWD did to him, (the big meanie jerks!) maybe he deserves to hog up a chapter once in a while. Again, thank you for reading this story and for feeding my review addiction. **

Merle removed the cushions from the leather sofa bed and stacked them up next to the couch. He pulled at the folded bed frame and it popped free from where it was wedged down inside the couch and Merle opened it up. He frowned and smoothed out the mattress with his hand and then pushed down on it. It was thicker than most hide-a-bed mattresses he'd slept on (and he'd slept on a lot of them) and it seemed to be firm, yet comfortable. He sat on it and bounced his rear end up and down on it and grinned to himself when he couldn't feel the support bar that ran across the middle of every pull out bed he'd ever slept on. That was a good sign. He bounced along the edge of the bed to see if there were any sunken in areas. So far so good.

He had made his way to the end of the bed when Andrea cleared her throat and he jerked his head toward the door. Andrea gave him a little wave. "Were you having fun?" she asked with a smile on her face.

Merle grinned. "Did it look like I was?"

Andrea raised her eyebrows. "Yes. Almost as much as you had taking out walkers." she said as she entered the room.

Merle cocked an eyebrow at her and dammit, there was that smirk again. "I guess it's just 'cause I'm a fun lovin' type a guy," he said.

"So, is this where you're going to hang your hat while you're here?" Andrea asked.

"Hat, shirt, pants, skivvies; the whole damned wardrobe," Merle replied.

Andrea looked around the room. "I'll bet you just love it in here, don't you?" she asked.

"What's not to love? Comfortable place to sleep, little and big animals to keep me company. That is, unless of course…" and he raised his eyebrows and looked at her hopefully.

"Don't even go there, Dixon." Andrea said, slightly surprised that Merle Dixon even possessed the ability to make puppy dog eyes at her.

Merle stood up and walked around behind the couch, stopping to rest his hand on a stuffed mink. "Guess I'll just have to be happy with the critters as company." he said.

"I guess so," Andrea agreed. She pointed to a brown rabbit that had been positioned so it was sitting back on its haunches and had both front paws held in front of it. It reminded Andrea of a small, begging dog. "That one's cute. Poor thing."

Merle grinned and reached out and pet the rabbit on the head and then turned back to Andrea and pointed to the pulled out sofa bed and said "You know where there's any sheets and maybe a blanket so I can get this thing made up? Figured I could just steal a pillow from Derle. He's got way too many of 'em"

"I'll make it up for you." Andrea said as she seated herself on the coffee table next to the sofa bed.

Merle squinted at her and thumped his left hand on his left ear. "Must be hearin' things." he said. "Could swear I just heard you offer to make up this here sofa bed for me."

"I did offer to make it up." Andrea said and then she pointed a finger at him. "But, only because I can just see you pulling all the sheets and pillowcases out of the linen closet and making one big mess going through them to find something that'll fit this thing and that isn't pink or covered with flowers. Besides, look at you. You're filthy and you really need a shower. You can take one while I make up the bed for you."

"Tell you what, Goldilocks," Merle said, "Why don't we both take a shower together? You're a bit grimy and dirty yourself from fightin' off them biters and I don't mean to be rude, but you're smellin' a bit ripe, too. Now don't get mad, I'm jes' bein' honest. An' before you say no, just consider how much water we'll save and the biggest plus of all is I can wash your back and you can wash mine."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Nice try, Dixon, but hell will freeze over before I ever take a shower with you. And I don't smell 'ripe'."

"Okay, okay. How 'bout a bath, then?" Merle asked, "Derle's got that big ol' tub…"

"Merle!" Andrea said, trying to sound angry but having a hard time doing so, "Stop it!"

"Well damn," Merle said as he spread his arms out in exasperation. "You can't blame a guy for tryin'!"

Andrea crossed her arms in front of her and gave Merle one of her own smirks.

He sighed in defeat and grumbled as he pushed by her out the door and stepped into the hall. "Okay, okay, I'll go get in the shower." He continued to sputter as he trudged down the hallway toward the nearest bathroom. "Cranky wench…just as dirty as I am. Hair's a damned mess, too. Looks like 'Hooker-Heroin Addict Barbie' an' smells like someone opened a can a cat food."

* * *

Andrea couldn't hear what Merle was grumbling about as he headed down the hall for the bathroom and she was pretty sure she was better off not knowing what he was saying. She walked over to the sofa bed and flopped down on it. To her surprise it was rather comfortable as far as sofa beds went. She rolled over onto her back and looked around the room at the trophy heads and stuffed creatures mounted on the walls and perched on various pieces of furniture around the room. "Redneck's dream-man cave." she said to herself. She pulled herself up into a sitting position and stretched. Merle was right, she was quite dirty and she could feel where parts of her shirt stuck to her skin either with sweat or blood. She lifted one of her arms and sniffed at her armpit and caught the faint scent of Lady Speed Stick 'powder fresh' deodorant. "I don't stink, asshole." she said.

* * *

Rick dove off the dock into the cool clear water. He swam out about forty feet and then stopped to tread water. Carl came racing across the deck and down the dock with Beth close behind him and when he reached the end of the dock, he propelled himself into the air and gathered his knees up as he wrapped his arms around them. "Cannonball!" he shouted and he hit the water kicking up a very large spray of water. "Man, this feels good after sweating up a storm." he exclaimed when he surfaced.

The words had just left his mouth when Beth hit the water about four feet from him, clutching her knees to her chest, too. The resulting splash caught Carl full in the face and Rick laughed as his son spit out a mouthful of water and started to laugh.

Rick watched Beth and Carl as they playfully splashed water at one another. It amazed him to think that less than two hours before both of them had been under attack by creatures that up until not quite a year earlier were things that only existed in movies and nightmares. Carl and Beth had bounced back from their ordeal quickly and Rick thought again about how much more of an appreciation he now had for the good things in life. Things like being able to float in a crystal clear lake on a hot summer evening with family and friends nearby and knowing no one would go hungry at dinner that night. He was constantly amazed by how many things they had all taken for granted before the world had gone to hell.

Rick watched as Lori came out onto the deck in a bright lime green one piece bathing suit. She had a towel draped over her shoulder and she smiled and waved to Rick when she noticed he was looking at her.

"Ewww, Mom," Carl said from where he floated in the water. "That color is awful! It looks like fluorescent puke."

Lori hung her towel on the back of one of the patio chairs and walked across the deck and to the end of the dock. "I happen to like this color, young man." she said with a smile.

"It's gross." Carl said and he spun in the water toward where his father was treading water another twenty feet away. "What do you think, Dad? Doesn't the color of Mom's suit suck?"

Rick looked Lori up and down as she stood on the end of the dock with her hands on her hips. "Your Mom makes anything look good," he said.

Beth giggled and Carl groaned. "Dad, you are so full of crap."

Lori dipped her foot into the water to gauge its temperature and said, "He may be full of crap, but he gave the right answer."

Carl rolled his eyes and turned to splash more water in Beth's direction. His parents were so odd. They both had told him again and again that lying was not acceptable and to always be honest, but his Dad had just told his mother a bald-faced lie and that was okay? No one in their right mind would find the color of that bathing suit attractive.

Glenn stepped out onto the deck in a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt. He was holding a folded Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtle beach towel in one hand and holding a can of Pepsi in the other. "How's the water?" he called out to the members of the group that were enjoying themselves in the lake.

"Wet!" Carl shouted back.

Glenn sighed. "Okay, okay. You got me. Ha ha ha. I'll rephrased the question. Is the water warm? Cool? Tepid?"

"It's warm." Beth said before Carl could say anything and she smiled shyly at Glenn.

Glenn looked at her as she floated in the water, her hands swishing through the water and her long blonde hair fanned out around her neck just below the water's surface. He noticed she was wearing a cute lilac colored one piece gingham print bathing suit and he tried not to stare at her. The pastel color of the suit complimented her fair skin and hair perfectly and the cut of it conveyed a sense of both innocence and sexiness at the same time. Glenn blushed when he realized he was staring at Beth and quickly looked over to where Lori was slowly descending the swim ladder into the water.

"I like the color of your bathing suit." Glenn said to her. "It's really….green."

Carl laughed.

* * *

Merle stepped out of the shower and dried himself off with a big pale blue bath towel. He hummed as he held the towel against his right hip with his stump so he could wrap it around his waist with his left hand, then he pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway. He jogged down the hall holding the towel in place and pushed open the door to the den with his stump, nearly smacking Andrea in the face with the door.

Andrea was reaching for the door handle when the door suddenly flew open and she gasped as she jumped back just in time to miss being hit in the face.

"Shit, darlin', I'm sorry!" Merle said and he chuckled when he realized what had almost happened. "Didn't know anyone'd be in here."

Andrea smacked Merle's bare left arm. "Dammit, Merle, you almost gave me a heart attack!" she cried.

"And a bloody nose," Merle added jovially.

Andrea smiled and smacked his arm again, but not as hard. "And a bloody nose!" she exclaimed.

Merle grinned. "Serves you right for lurkin' behind the doors in folk's rooms. You ain't only lucky I didn't hit you in the face with that door, you're lucky I didn't pop in here wearin' nothin'. Not that it wouldn't a been a treat for you an' all."

"Oh pullleeez." Andrea groaned.

Merle walked by her and she turned to watch him as he made his way over to the framed backpack leaning on a chair by the couch. She had never seen Merle shirtless before and she cringed when she saw scars on his back similar to his brother's. She could tell that Merle had lost quite a bit of weight since the last time she'd seen him on the roof in Atlanta, but his body, although leaner, was still rock hard and well muscled. "Glenn brought your clothes up from your truck." she said as her eyes examined his body from behind.

Merle pulled the top flap of the pack aside with his left hand and pulled a pair of work pants, boxers and a tank top out of the pack.

"Good, gotta get dressed and get movin'." Merle said. He pretended to sniff the air. "Thought you was gonna take a shower?"

Andrea rolled her eyes. "I don't stink, you jerk, and I figured I'd make up your bed first."

Merle glanced over to the sofa bed and saw it had been neatly made up for him. A brown comforter was spread over the clean sheets and two pillows were stacked at one end.

"Very nice." Merle said, his back still to Andrea. "I'll be sure to leave a generous tip for you. Now if you'll 'scuse me, I gotta get dressed."

Andrea was about to say something else when Merle let the towel drop to the floor and he bent forward and lifted a leg to slide it into his boxers, giving Andrea a good look at his bare ass. Andrea's eyes widened and she quickly turned away and rushed out the door and into the hallway. As she closed the door to the den, she heard Merle burst into laughter.

* * *

Hershel was stepping out of the war room when Merle emerged a few minutes later, clean and fully dressed, from the den that he had temporarily claimed as his own.

Hershel was carrying his medical bag in one hand and a rather thick book under his other arm. "I'm just going down to take a look at your brother." he said to Merle. "I hate to wake him if he's asleep, but I want to start charting his vitals and do some neurological reaction tests. Did you want to come in with me while I examine him?"

Merle thought about it for a couple of seconds then said, "Nah, Derle don't like too many people millin' around 'im and I don't wanna cause 'im any more stress than what he's dealin' with already." He reached out with his left hand towards Hershel. "Let me carry your bag for ya." he said.

Hershel gratefully passed the bag to Merle. He had just finished placing several surgical instruments, IV fittings, syringes and bottles of various types of intravenous pain killers in the bag and it was quite heavy. "Thank you."

"No problem." Merle said and the two men walked down the hall together. "The gal that took the car and left," Merle said as the two men descended the stairs to the second floor. "Do you think she would cause trouble for y'all if she had the chance to?"

Hershel pondered the question as he descended the steps and then they were walking past the rooms on the second floor. He smiled as he heard Andrea's voice drifting into the hallway from behind a closed bathroom door. The shower was running and she was apparently singing in the shower. Then his mind went back to the question at hand. "She might." he said to Merle. "I had started a program of medication and counseling for her but she needed strict supervision. She felt like a prisoner here after her attempt to go after Daryl had been thwarted and she didn't understand why she wasn't allowed access to any weapons and to freely roam the compound. She was still delusional and quite angry with us, so yes, she might cause trouble, but then again, she might just put all thoughts and memories of us right out of her mind and never think of us again."

"So the answer is: you don't know." Merle said as he started down the stairs to the first floor.

Hershel raised his eyebrows. Dixon men seemed to have the way of cutting to the chase. "That's correct. The answer is that I don't know whether or not Carol would come after us if she had a chance to."

Merle walked to Daryl's door with Hershel and handed him his medical bag. "Derle can get grumpy when he's not feelin' well. If he does, it ain't nothin' personal. He just don't know how to act around people most a the time, even when he ain't all messed up."

Hershel smiled. "Daryl and I have had our share of disagreements over what courses of action were the best ones for treating his injuries, but I'm generally able to get him to do what I need him to do without much complaining."

"'s always been hard for him to keep still." Merle said apologetically. "He's been bouncin' off the walls since the day he was born. Don't let 'im give you any shit. He does, you let me know an' I'll straighten his ass out for you."

"Thank you, but I'm sure he'll be compliant." Hershel said as he rapped lightly on Daryl's door.

Merle heard the door open as he walked toward the living room and then he could hear Maggie's voice and Hershel's as the two talked quietly in the doorway of Daryl's room.

* * *

He heard yelling and splashing coming from the deck and he sauntered up to one of the windows that opened out onto the deck. He hesitated for a second and then took a peek out of the window. He quickly took note of who was out on the deck and in the water. Officer Friendly and his skanky wife were out there, and what the hell was up with that awful neon green bathing suit she was wearing on her boney frame? Carl and Beth and Glenn were there and Merle grinned when he saw Carl scowling and glaring from where he floated in the water at Glenn who was talking and laughing with Beth as the two of them sat at the patio table. Poor kid. He was crushing on Hershel's youngest daughter something awful by the looks of things.

Merle stepped away from the window and walked into the dining room and then the kitchen. He knew that Maggie and Hershel were in Daryl's room with Daryl, Andrea was upstairs and that only left the older fellow with that God-awful fishing hat. Where was he?

* * *

Merle stepped out the kitchen door onto the back porch and he had his answer. Dale was sitting in a lawn chair about five feet from where the two burn piles were still crackling and popping as their putrid fuel source burned. Dale was holding a garden hose in his right hand as it rested on the arm of the lawn chair. The end was pointed upward and the water shot up about a foot in the air as it exited the hose and then splashed down onto Dale's chest and stomach. Dale was leaning back in the lawn chair and enjoying the spray of cool water as he sat in the sun and watched the fires. The faded Grand Canyon t-shirt and the cargo shorts he was wearing were soaked, but he looked cool and comfortable.

Merle stepped back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He reached in and grabbed a Coors Light from the five left in the six-pack on the second shelf and popped the cap off it. It was ice cold and fizzy and he guzzled it down and then stifled a belch in his arm before walking back through the dining room and into the living room. He paused for a minute near the bottom of the stairway to see if he could hear any voices or noises coming from Daryl's room but everything was quiet so he jogged up the stairs to the second floor.

* * *

Andrea was stepping out of the bathroom and rubbing a towel in her hair to try to dry it as Merle stepped into the second floor hallway.

"You seen the keys to my truck?" Merle asked her as he strode down the hall toward her.

"No, but Glenn said they were in the backpack he brought in that had your clothes in it." Andrea answered. "Are you still planning to go to the farm to get Daryl's crossbow?"

"You know it." Merle said as he walked past her towards the stairs that led to the third floor.

"I'm going with you." Andrea said. "That way I can ride there with you to the farm, grab the F150 and bring it back here."

"Not if the place is still crawlin' with biters. A truck ain't worth gettin' eaten over." Merle said over his shoulder as he started up the stairs.

"If it's crawling with walkers, I won't even try to get the truck. Deal?" Andrea asked as she followed Merle up the stairs.

"Nope. I ain't comin' right back after I pick up Derle's bow." Merle told her. "Got an errand to run first. You best just stay here for now an' we can go get the F150 tomorrow."

Andrea narrowed her eyes at Merle before she turned around without a word and walked back down the stairs.

* * *

Merle dug around in his back pack for almost three minutes before he totally lost his patience and dumped the whole damned thing out on top of his 'bed'. "Where are those fuckin' keys?!" he shouted. He threw the empty backpack against the fireplace and heard a metallic 'cla-clink' as the side of the pack hit the stone hearth. "Son of a bitch!" he snarled and he stepped over to where the backpack rested against the hearth and snatched it up. He started opening all the pockets and zippers on the bag and finally he found what he was looking for. The keys were wrapped in a red bandanna in one of the inner zippered pockets in the pack. "What the hell?!" Merle griped. Why the hell would anyone put the keys to his truck in a stupid place like that? He decided he'd make sure to ask Glenn that question when he got back from his errand. "Dumb chink," he said under his breath as he left the den and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Merle galloped down both sets of stairs and exploded out the kitchen door, slamming it behind him. He was glad that Rick and his family were still goofing around in the lake. Rick wouldn't want him leaving like this and he might even be fool enough to try to stop Merle, and this way a confrontation was completely avoided.

"Hey," Dale called to Merle from his soggy lawn chair, "Where are you guys going?"

"Got an errand I gotta run." Merle said loud enough for Dale to hear him. He jogged toward his truck and then came to an abrupt halt.

Andrea was sitting in the passenger seat. She was looking out the open window at him and smiling like a Cheshire cat. A ragged looking straw cowboy hat was perched on her head and her damp hair hung in wild waves around her face.

Merle thought she looked fantastic. "What the hell are you doin' in my truck, Goldilocks?" he said as he walked around the front of his truck.

"I'm running an errand with you, Stubby." Andrea replied.

"Hey! I thought we agreed that Stubby wasn't acceptable!" Merle snapped as he opened the driver's side door and slid into the driver's seat.

Andrea had followed him with her eyes as he'd come around the front of the truck and gotten in behind the wheel. "No, _you_ said it was unacceptable. I never agreed to that." she said.

Merle started the truck with his left hand, and then leaned back on the seat and looked over at her. "Is that so?" he asked.

"Yes." Andrea replied. "Now just what errand are we running after we get your brother's bow at the farm?"

"_You_ ain't runnin' no errand at all, but _I'm_ goin' to Woodbury to sniff around a bit. See if the mouse ended up there."

"I'm coming with you." Andrea said. "And there's nothing you can do or say to stop me."

Merle shrugged and put the truck in drive. "Okay." he sighed as the truck started to climb the incline to the gate and then he grinned. "Whatever you say. Sugar Tits."


	31. Chapter 31

**Warning: Not much action in this chapter. Hopefully, it won't put you to sleep. Action coming up in the next chapter. Please pardon the lag in updating but I have had absolutely no ambition at all lately. Thank you my dearest guest, for giving me the kick in the pants that I needed. = ) **

Hershel watched as Maggie sat down on the edge of the bed and then reached down and took Daryl's left hand in hers and gently rubbed her thumb across the top of his hand. "Hey Tiger," she said softly. "It's time to wake up."

Daryl didn't stir so she released his hand and placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed on it a couple of times. "Come on, wakey, wakey, Dixon." When she still didn't get a response from him, she grasped his shoulder and shook it. He shifted and mumbled, "Go 'way," as he pulled away from her and moved to roll over onto his right side.

Maggie looked over at her father. Hershel watched as Daryl, who was now facing him, pulled the pillow next to him close to his chest and then exhaled deeply as he buried his chin into the top of it.

"Daryl?" Hershel said as he approached the bed. Daryl didn't answer so Hershel raised his voice. "_Daryl_!"

Daryl's eyes popped open wide and it took a couple of seconds for his brain to register what his eyes were seeing. He blinked and brought up his left hand and rubbed his eyes. "Hey…Hershel." he said. He yawned and then jumped as Maggie placed a hand on his shoulder.

Maggie pulled her hand away quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." she said.

"'s okay." Daryl said as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hands clutched at the bed on both sides of him as he was struck with vertigo. For a second he thought he was going to pitch forward and hit the floor head first but he took a deep breath and leaned back, swinging his legs back up onto the bed. He lowered his head back into the pillows and closed his eyes as the bed spun beneath him. "Dizzy spell." he mumbled. He felt Maggie's soft hand caress his cheek and he pushed down the instinctive urge to pull away from her touch before he acted on it. He liked how her skin felt against his, but he knew it was going to take some time and effort for him to change the defensive behaviors that had been so ingrained in him over the years that they were now instinctive.

"Do you want my dad to come back later?" Maggie asked as she slid her hand down Daryl's arm and then stopped and held his hand in hers.

"No… no." Daryl said. "Just give me a second. Just gotta clear my head a bit is all."

"Don't try to sit up again just yet," Hershel said and he approached the bedside.

Maggie released Daryl's hand and stepped away from him to let her father get in closer.

"Let's pick up where we left off before all the excitement erupted, shall we?" Hershel asked.

Daryl shifted his eyes to look at the older man and Hershel watched as Daryl's eyes stuttered to the right and then moved back to look at him again. "I'm going to ask you some simple questions," he said. "Are you feeling up to answering a few?"

Daryl closed his eyes and nodded and Maggie headed toward the door that lead out onto the porch. "I'll leave you two alone. Just holler, though, if you need anything."

"I'm sure we're all set. I'll let you know when I'm finished here." her father said to her.

Maggie heard Merle's truck start and she opened the door and stepped out onto the porch just as the truck was pulling out of the parking area. She saw Andrea sitting in the passenger seat and she craned her neck to see if Glenn had gone with them, but she wasn't able to tell if he was in the vehicle or not. She watched as the truck turned up the driveway and disappeared around the pines as it headed up the hill towards the gate.

Maggie figured that Merle must have decided to go to the farm to get the crossbow as he had originally planned to before the group of walkers had shown up in the back yard unexpectedly. She squinted and zeroed in on the gate that opened from the back yard into the driveway. Of course, it was closed and latched, but after the walker fiasco, she just felt better making extra sure that it was secured.

"Brrrrrrrrr...woo! That is cold, cold, cold!"

Maggie turned and looked toward the two now much smaller piles of burning walkers. Dale was sitting in a lawn chair that he had turned around so its back was to her and she watched with amusement as he held the hose above him and let the stream of water hit the top of his balding head. The water splashed off his head in all directions and had completely soaked him as he sat in his chair. "This feels soooooooo good!" he exclaimed. Maggie grinned. Dale hadn't detected her presence and she quietly moved across the porch to the kitchen door, opened it and entered the kitchen, being careful not to let the door bang shut behind her.

* * *

Rick had started the boat after making sure that all of the swimmers were over near the far side of the dock and well away from it. Lori sat in the open bow and rubbed a towel in her hair as she stretched her legs out in front of her and rested her feet on the top of the bow rail. Rick had invited her to take a slow relaxing ride around the lake's edge before he called the group together for a meeting.

The smell of the boat exhaust brought back memories of good times at Jackson Lake for Lori and she smiled.

Lori's grandparents had owned a small cabin on Jackson Lake outside of Macon and when Lori and Rick started dating and were first married, they had spent some time in the summers at the camp, swimming, pulling friends on water skiis behind the old MFG boat Lori's grandfather owned or just spending time lazily sunning themselves while drifting on inner tubes or in the boat out on the lake. The cabin had gone up for sale the year Carl was born when Lori's grandfather had died and her grandmother just didn't see any point in keeping it anymore. She and Rick had had some wonderful times out at that cabin and it had been in her father's family for four generations. She was sad to see its ownership change hands to a new family.

Rick pulled the control lever back and the boat's motor rumbled as the propeller churned the water, releasing a cascade of bubbles and the boat slowly moved backward. Rick was busy backing the boat away from the dock when Merle and Andrea made their escape up the driveway. The boat motor's noise had prevented anyone from hearing Merle start up his Dodge Ram or the sound of the Dodge's engine as it ascended the driveway to the gate.

* * *

Merle shoved a CD into the stereo and cranked up the volume. Andrea smirked and looked out the window as Motorhead started belting out 'Eat the Rich'.

Merle grinned. "You like that, darlin'?" he asked.

"Not particularly." Andrea replied.

"Aw, now don't be like that. This is some of the best music ever made!" Merle said loudly over the music.

Andrea reached over and turned the stereo down and Merle frowned. "Why'd you go an' do that?" he asked.

"Because I don't want my ears to start bleeding. Don't you have something different we can listen to? Something a little less….aggressive?"

Merle laughed. "Like what? Air Supply? Taylor Swift? Maybe I can find some Justin Bieber for ya. Or Josh Groban."

Andrea perked up at that. "You have Josh Groban?" she asked hopefully.

Merle snorted. "_As if!_ Sorry Sugar, _my_ ride, _my_ music." he said as he leaned forward and turned up the volume again.

Andrea rolled her eyes and went back to staring out the window. They drove for another half hour with Motorhead blasting and Merle singing along with his hoarse, scratchy voice. He pushed the button to shut off the stereo with his stump and braked as they approached the previously blocked section of roadway that had been cleared mostly by Shane and Carl. There was a large crowd of walkers stumbling around in the narrow roadway between the disabled vehicles and log piles and Merle whistled between his teeth. "Well look at this. We've got a biter convention in town."

"Wow," Andrea said as she watched the walkers begin ambling towards the truck. "Should we turn around and go back? Maybe come back tomorrow? They should have dissipated by then. I would hope."

Merle scoffed. "Go back? Shit, no! Four wheel drive was made for this sort of thing. Just make sure you're belted in. Things might get a mite bumpy."

Andrea smiled and reached for her seatbelt. "Didn't we just do this not too long ago?" she asked.

Merle grinned and nodded. "Yup, only you were the one drivin' an' havin' all the fun. I was just the navigator. Now it's my turn to be captain. And hey, it's good to know they got a hose and a workin' spigot where we're holed up. When I get back we can wash all the crap offa the truck in the driveway. It'll be just like a Saturday afternoon before things went to hell."

Merle stepped on the brake to shift into 4 wheel drive and the walkers began to converge on the vehicle. He hit the gas and plowed into the crowd of walking corpses, mowing over a group of four of them. The truck bumped and jolted as it drove over their bodies and then plowed further into the crowd of the walking dead, catching them in the legs with the bumper before pushing them into more walkers behind them. It was like driving a bulldozer, Merle thought, except that instead of dirt, he was pushing walkers with the bumper of his truck and not a blade or bucket.

The truck jumped and jerked as its tires dug into and crushed rotting bodies beneath them, spattering the wheel wells and the sides of the truck with pungent and putrid bodily fluids.

Andrea reached over and flipped the stereo back on and Lemmy Kilmister's voice and Motorhead's music filled the truck cab again. "Mood music." Andrea practically shouted over the noise.

Merle grinned. "Shit, woman, all we need is a fifth of whisky and we'd have us a fuckin' party!" The truck lurched and thumped as it ground more walker bodies into each other and the pavement below.

Andrea looked out the side window and smiled. Merle was crude and rude and disgusting, but like Daryl, he had shown himself to be smarter than she had given him credit for. He and Daryl also shared a tendency to be sarcastic and smarmy and short tempered, but that was where Andrea thought the similarities between the two brother's personalities ended.

Daryl was quiet for the most part, unless he was mad and then he got really loud really fast, unlike Merle who apparently loved to hear himself talk and tended to be loud and boisterous all the time when interacting with other people. So why was she finding herself enjoying the loud obnoxious redneck's company right now? 'He's just feeding an adrenaline rush you've got going on,' she told herself, 'and he's funny and fun to be with sometimes, like now.' She also was surprised to discover that she liked that Merle seemed to enjoy raising hell and having fun like he was doing now. One thing was certain, Merle Dixon was anything but boring.

As if reading her mind, Merle laughed and stamped down on the accelerator. The truck jumped forward as the engine roared.

"Ooooo…!" he exclaimed as a rather rotund and newer looking walker bounced up onto the hood and then rolled off the side, leaving a large bloody smear on the truck, "that was a big, fresh one! Wonder where he came from?" He laughed his maniacal Merle laugh and the sound of it made Andrea laugh, too.

* * *

Rick wrapped a towel around his waist and sat at the table on the deck. The boat ride had been relaxing and he and Lori had reminisced about times out at her grandparents' lakeside cabin in Macon as they drove along the edge of the lake. Now he looked around at the people lounging on the deck and those still in the water and mentally conducted a head count. Maggie was talking with Glenn and Beth and Carl were in the water having a contest to see who could do the most underwater somersaults in a row. Beth was accusing Carl of cheating at backward somersaults because every time his head surfaced while he was doing them, he would suck in a breath of air just before his head entered the water again as continued his backward roll. Lori had reclined one of the deck chairs and was sunning herself and Hershel was still in with Daryl. The last time Rick had seen Dale, he'd been watching the fires that were consuming the walkers they'd dispatched so that left only Merle and Andrea unaccounted for.

He waited for a pause in the conversation that Maggie was having with Glenn and then called over to her. "Maggie, have you seen Andrea and Merle?" He didn't like the confused look his question elicited from her.

"They both left in Merle's truck a while ago. I was in Daryl's room and I heard the truck start and I looked out the doorway and they were leaving." Maggie didn't like the surprised look on Rick's face in response to the information she had just given him. Hadn't he known they were going? Merle probably didn't think he needed to check in and let Rick know if he was taking off, but surely Andrea would have told Rick if she was planning on going anywhere with Merle. They were probably just going to get Daryl's crossbow as they had planned to do originally, so why did Rick look like it was such a big deal?

"What?" Glenn said before Rick had a chance to open his mouth. "They left without me? Aww, man! I was going to go with them!"

"You snooze you lose." Lori said from her chair without even opening her eyes as she basked in the sun.

"Am I the only one that sees a problem with Merle taking off with Andrea to go back to the farm?" Rick asked, amazed at how nonchalant the others were being about this turn of events. "It will be dark before they get back and I'm still not convinced that Merle isn't here for reasons other than to make sure his brother is being properly cared for."

Glenn threw up his hands. "Again with this! Merle would _never _do anything to endanger Daryl. I'm sure he'll be back with Andrea as soon as they've retrieved Daryl's crossbow."

Rick raised his eyebrows in surprise. Glenn was again coming to Merle's defense. Rick had been told in the past that Merle had tormented Glenn with all sorts of racial slurs and an occasional cuff to the head back at the quarry before Rick had shown up in Merle's place that day so long ago. So why was Glenn now acting as President, Founder and Number One Fan of the new Merle Dixon Fan Club?

"Unless he's decided to go after Carol." Maggie said in response to Glenn's statement.

Rick ran a hand through his damp, wavy hair and said, "Going after Carol would be a waste of time. She has a big head start on them and even if Carol does go to Woodbury and tells the president or senator or whoever the hell the leader there calls himself about us, it isn't a big deal. We've encountered special ops soldiers and we beat them. I'm sure we can handle anything or anyone Carol could possibly bring down on us from a small town like Woodbury." Rick said confidently. "We just need to beef up the security around here and keep a twenty four seven watch schedule. I was just going to call a meeting so we could discuss these things."

"Okay, I'll go get Dale." Glenn volunteered and he headed for the door that opened from the deck into the living room. He entered the living room just as Hershel was entering it from the hallway near Daryl's room. "Rick's calling a meeting out on the deck." he said to Hershel. He stopped and added. "Daryl should probably be in on this, is he…?"

"In any shape to sit in on a meeting?" Hershel finished. "No, he really isn't."

"Did something change? Is he worse?" Glenn asked worriedly. After all, he was partially responsible for the shape Daryl was in.

"Things are changing but it's hard to say if he's getting worse or better. He's still running a low grade fever and his headache is getting worse but that could be a sign of healing. I really need to speak to Merle again." Hershel said. "He said Daryl's had head injuries before and that sleep was always the best thing for him. I want to see if Merle can tell me anything about the length of time it took for Daryl to get better and the circumstances around the old injuries. The more I know about his history and how he reacted to this kind of injury, the better. As far as allowing a head injury patient to sleep is concerned, the medical journals and the Merck Manual contain many conflicting opinions on the matter. Some say that a head injury patient should be awakened every hour if they fall asleep or that they shouldn't be allowed to sleep at all while others say that the patient needs all the sleep they can get in order for their brain to heal."

"So what do _you_ think?" Glenn asked.

"I think at this point I'll alternate and see what works best for him. I wanted to give him something just now so he'd sleep, but he wouldn't let me. Do you happen to know where Maggie is?"

"She's out on the deck." Glenn answered. "And Merle's gone to get Daryl's crossbow."

"Thank you." Hershel replied and he walked quickly across the living room floor to the outside door.

* * *

Hershel approached Maggie and spoke quietly to her for a minute. She nodded and then approached Rick. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to miss this meeting." she told him as Glenn stepped out onto the deck with Dale following close behind him.

Rick nodded and looked at Maggie with sympathetic eyes. "Understandable." he said. "Someone can fill you in later. Now go on."

Maggie gave Rick a small smile and walked quickly to the door and pushed it open. She trotted across the living room and into the hallway and then stopped and rapped on Daryl's door.

"May I come in?" she asked through the door.

"Been expectin' you." Daryl's voice answered.

Maggie pushed the door open and stepped into Daryl's room and then closed the door behind her. The room was cooler than it had been and it appeared that the ceiling fan was doing its job.

Daryl was sitting up in his bed with his back propped up against the headboard. His eyes were closed and he held a white hand towel to his nose. Maggie watched as a large crimson red stain started to spread from the center of the cloth that covered Daryl's nose out toward the edges.

"Don't get all worried. Just a nosebleed." he mumbled before she could comment on it. "Will you come sit with me?" he asked. "You don't' have to if you don't wanna." he added quickly. "I ain't much fun to be around lately."

"Tiger, you're always fun to be around." Maggie said with a smile.

Daryl smirked. "Somebody's pants are on fire," he said, "and they ain't mine."

Maggie hopped up onto the left side of the bed and crawled over to where Daryl leaned against the headboard.

"You're darned right my pants are on fire," Maggie purred into his ear. "I want you so damned _bad _sometimes I just _ache_. I'm actually surprised that my pants haven't spontaneously combusted."

Daryl's eyes popped open wide and he snorted and dropped the hand towel as he coughed, spraying blood droplets in all directions. His cheeks flushed red and his words started tumbling over each other. "I didn't mean it like….it's from 'liar, liar pants….'…oh shit …just…..just never mind."

Maggie smiled and picked up the hand towel and gently pressed it to Daryl's nose. "Do you have any idea how cute you look when you get all red-faced and embarrassed?" she asked him. "It's one of the many, many things I love about you."

"Stop." Daryl said, his cheeks still red.

Maggie dabbed the towel at his nose and then pulled it away to see if he was still bleeding from it. He was so she pressed the towel back against his nose.

"Here," he said as he put his left hand over hers as she held the cloth to his face. "Give me that."

"Oh, I'll give you something, alright." Maggie said as she leaned in and met his eyes with hers. "When you're better and you're feeling up to it, _up_ being the operative word here, I'm going to so rock your world, Mr. Dixon."

"Good Lord, woman, you're a tease." Daryl complained. He took a deep breath and then Maggie saw him wince and he closed his eyes again.

"I'm sorry." Maggie said and she took his hand in hers, being careful not to touch the area where his smallest finger had once been. "I shouldn't play when you're feeling so awful."

Daryl sighed. "Shhhh…..don't worry none about that," he said as he released her hand and ran his calloused and bruised hand up her arm to her shoulder and then back down her arm. "I honestly sorta missed your inappropriate comments, and if you ever get me to try to admit I said that I will vehemently deny it."

Maggie giggled. Goosebumps rose up on her arm where Daryl was gently caressing it. It felt so nice to feel his hot hand running across her cool skin.

Daryl took his hand from Maggie's arm and pulled the towel away from his nose. He folded it so that a clean white section of it was exposed and he pressed it to his nose and then pulled it away. It came back with faint staining on it and he sighed. "Least that's done for now." he said. He wiped at his nose again and then put the red stained cloth in the basin next on the bedside table and yawned. He slid down further on the bed and rested his head on a pillow. "Much better." he mumbled.

Maggie moved in closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. "You're tired. You should sleep." she said and she kissed his cheek.

Daryl snorted. "I am tired, but seems lately all I do is sleep. I feel like a fuckin' lazy-ass sloth."

Maggie kissed his cheek again and then she was running her tongue across it and towards his mouth. "You're not a sloth," she breathed and she moved in and captured his lips with hers. She ran her tongue along his damaged lips and for a second she wondered if she was hurting him. She felt his arms go around her and when she took her lips from his he turned his head and whispered in her ear.

"You are so beautiful" he said. "So, so beautiful." He kissed her back and held her tight against him.

Maggie rested her head on Daryl's chest and just enjoyed the feeling of his arms around her.

After a couple minutes of silence Maggie suddenly sat up and looked down at him. "I'm going to give you fair warning, Tiger." she said as her green gray eyes met his blue ones.

He could see mischief brewing in those big beautiful eyes of hers. "Fair warning, huh? 'bout what?" Daryl asked.

Maggie grinned. "When you're better, when you're healed up enough," she told him, "I'm going to hang big old 'do not disturb' signs on both of your doors and then….and then….and thennnnnnnnnnnnn….."

"And then what?" Daryl asked, stifling a yawn. Damn, he was suddenly so fucking tired.

"Hold on, I'm pausing for dramatic effect." Maggie explained. "and then….."

Daryl laughed.

"and then…we're going to make love and explore each other's bodies until we are both collapsing from exhaustion." Maggie announced.

Daryl smirked. "Promises, promises," he said. "Don't let your mouth be writin' checks that your body can't cash, Mags."

Maggie sat up on the bed. "My body is good for the amount written by my mouth." she said.

Daryl closed his eyes, a smile playing about his lips. "If you say so."

Maggie could tell Daryl was tired and she knew he needed his sleep, but damn, it was so nice to talk with him, hell, to _flirt_ with him again.

"Can I stay here with you tonight?" she asked. She was surprised when he opened his eyes and looked at her then shook his head. "No."

She raised an eyebrow and blinked. "No?"

"No," Daryl said sternly, "Absolutely not."

Daryl was taken aback by the depth of hurt that appeared on Maggie's face.

"Don't be gettin' mad," he said, "hear me out. Your dad don't know what the hell exactly is goin' on in my head. Things are messed up in here," he said as he pointed to his temple. "Your dad says that the wrong switch could get thrown in my little control room and I could just stop breathing or my heart could stop. If that happens, there is no way in _hell_ I want you in this room with me. Do you understand?"

Maggie looked away from him and he reached out and grabbed her arm. "Maggie! _Dammit, girl!_ _Do you understand?_" he repeated.

Maggie bit her bottom lip and nodded and Daryl felt like the world's biggest douchebag when a tear slipped down one of her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." Daryl said and he gently patted her arm. "Didn't mean to make you feel bad. I just don't want nothin' bad happenin' to you."

Maggie slid her arm away from Daryl and moved off the bed. "No, I get it. I just didn't know…I didn't think…forget it." she said. She looked over at him and was struck by the sad and worried look in his eyes. He reminded her of a lost puppy. A completely miserable lost puppy.

"You're mad at me now." he said. "Ain't cha?

Maggie took a long look at Daryl. Her gaze fell on the sad looking azure blue eyes circled with bruises, the lacerations and bruises that littered his face, chest and arms, back to those blue eyes, then the small demon peeking out at her from under his bruised right arm, back to those hurt looking eyes. She felt a pain in her heart, she didn't think it was actually physical, but it might have been. God, she had almost lost him. She might never have seen him again. Another tear ran down her cheek and Daryl blinked and then looked away and then a shaky sigh escaped him and he spoke.

"Damn, Maggie, don't do that." he said quietly. "I know I'm a piece a shit an' I'm sorry."

Maggie launched herself at him and caught him completely by surprise as she embraced him tightly and pressed her lips to his for just a few seconds before wiping her eyes and looking deep into his.

"I love you, Daryl Dixon and you are _not_ a piece of shit. You need to know that I can't think of a better way to spend a minute of my life than to be in your presence. Now…" she said and she planted a kiss on his cheek and hopped off the bed, "I'm going to go fix something for us to eat and then I'm going to sit with you until you fall asleep and then and only then will I leave your side this evening. _Do you understand_?"

The look of relief on Daryl's face made Maggie smile.

Daryl gave Maggie a nod and said, "Yes, ma'am."


	32. Chapter 32

The governor stood and made his way over to the credenza that stood against the wall by the window in his office. Like the one in his home office, this one was stocked with Irish whiskey and other spirits. He opened the cupboard door. "Would you care for something a little stronger than lemonade while we wait for Darla?" he asked Carol as his eyes studied the collection of bottles on the shelf. He reached into the cupboard. "I know that I've got a hankering for a rum and Coke," he said turning to her with a smile and holding up a bottle of Bacardi rum. "Would you like one, too?"

Carol had never been a drinker. Ed enjoyed his booze to the point of passing out at times and she wondered for a second how much that fact had to do with her aversion to alcohol. She decided that one drink wouldn't hurt. "A rum and Coke would be very nice," she said, "Thank you."

The governor took two highball glasses out of the credenza and set them on his desk. Carol was in the middle of telling the governor about the farmhouse that she and the group she had been with had taken refuge at after Sophia had run into the woods and gotten lost and the group's leader's young son had been shot in a hunting accident. He listened with renewed interest as she spoke of the livestock and poultry at the farm that helped to sustain the group. "It was wonderful to have fresh milk and eggs after living on canned goods and wild game." she said.

He dropped three cubes of ice in each glass and opened a can of Coke as Carol told him about the group member that had tried to and failed to find Sophia. She said that he had distanced himself from the others and moved his campsite away from the group. "He shut us all out. Even me. He had tried so hard to find Sophia and he felt like he had failed.'' she said.

The governor walked to where she sat and handed her one of the glasses he held.

Carol thanked him and took a sip of the drink as the ice cubes clinked against each other an the side of the glass.

The governor smirked when Carol winced after her first taste of the drink, but then she put the glass back to her lips and drank deeper. She licked her lips. "This is good." she said.

"I'm glad you like it." he pulled a chair over next to her and sat down in it. "Now you were saying?"

Carol dropped her eyes. '"The man who tried so hard to find Sophia, he's a hunter and a tracker and he was ashamed that he hadn't been able to track her."

"As well he should be," the governor said as he moved toward his chair behind his desk.

"No, he tried," Carol said as she took another sip of her drink. She frowned as she swirled her drink and watched the ice go in a circle around the inside of the glass. "Although he had given me several reassurances that he would find Sophia and that she was going to be okay. I wish he hadn't done that." She looked up from her glass and gave the governor a sad smile. "I'm sure he felt guilty for misleading me and that was part of what made him move away from the rest of us. You know, I went to see him where he had gone off by himself and he actually shouted at me. He told me all l had to do was watch Sophia better and that she wasn't his. I found it to be very hurtful, but I think he was just very angry with me for pestering him when he wanted to be alone." Carol looked at the floor and sighed.

This information angered the governor. "_He_ was angry with _you_? For heaven's sakes! You'd just lost your daughter! What kind of heartless louse is this guy?"

Carol bit her lower lip and looked up at the governor. "He was probably hurting, too. His brother was a jerk but the only family he had and no one showed him any sympathy at all when he lost his brother shortly before Sophia got lost. He and his brother were both rather antisocial right from the get go. He'd made it perfectly clear right from the start that he didn't like being around other people."

The governor scoffed. "In today's world that's just stupid. No one can survive without other people anymore."

Carol looked over the top of her glass with a far away look in her eyes and said, "Oh, Daryl could. He knows the ways of the woods. He's always been a survivor and he always said he was better off on his own."

There was a knock on the door and a woman's voice said, "Governor Blake? It's Darla. May I come in?"

"Yes, please do," the governor said as he reached over and placed his drink on a coaster on his desk.

A blonde haired middle-aged woman wearing a navy blue floral patterned skirt and a pale blue blouse entered the office and the governor stepped toward her and greeted her with a peck on the cheek. He motioned to where Carol l sat. "Darla, this is Carol. Carol, Darla is in charge of housing here in Woodbury. It is her responsibility to match people up with housing that suits their needs and their lifestyle preferences."

The women exchanged pleasantries and the governor took the now empty glass from Carol and placed it on the desk next to his. He turned to Darla and said, "so tell me, what did you find for accommodations for our guest and hopefully, newest Woodbury resident?"

Darla smiled warmly at the governor and then at Carol and said, "There is a lovely duplex next to the library. One side is available. It has two bedrooms, a full bath, the kitchen remodeling was completed last week. It is all ready for occupancy. There is a small garden plot in the back yard and a porch on the front of the house that looks out over a small but tidy front yard. The front lawn area is landscaped with flowers and two peach trees. It really is lovely. A very nice woman and her son live in the other side so you would have great neighbors, too."

Carol looked at the governor and then at Darla. "A duplex? With a garden? And peach trees? For me? I...I don't know what to say!"

"Take a look at it first and then if you like it, say you'll take it." Darla said.

The governor said he would stop by the house in a couple of hours before retiring for the night to see how Carol was doing and Carol and Darla left his office to make the short walk to the duplex, chatting with each other like they were lifelong friends.

* * *

After the women left, the governor walked around to the back of his desk and sank down in his chair. He leaned back slowly placed the tips of the fingers on his right hand against the tips of the fingers on his left hand and gently rubbed them together as he furrowed his brow and ran Carol's words through his mind.

_"He's a hunter and a tracker .." "His brother was a jerk but the only family he had.." "Daryl …..always said he was better off on his own." "Daryl..." "__**Daryl**__."_

"Daryl." the governor said softly and a grin slowly spread across his face.

It all made sense. Merle's brother had been with Carol's group and apparently, this was the same group that had left Merle on the roof in Atlanta. He would have to get Carol to tell him more about the group; about when she'd left them and if they had a cache of weapons and ammunition. If the arsenal Merle's brother had been driving around with had come from wherever this group was staying, he needed to find out where they were. Carol had left the group and was obviously at least a little upset with Daryl, so maybe, if he could win her trust and make her feel at home in Woodbury, she would tell him where they were staying. Oh, he could probably torture the information out of her, but he was quite sure it wouldn't be necessary to go that route. No, he was quite sure that Carol Peletier would be delighted to tell him whatever she knew once they'd spent a bit more time together. He also felt a bit of a kinship with her. She had lost her Sophia and he had lost his Penny. Unlike Sophia, there was still hope for Penny and this only served to increase the sympathy the governor felt for Carol. The hope that he might one day have his daughter back was the only thing that kept him going some days and he couldn't imagine how he'd feel if he had lost her forever.

* * *

Merle brought the truck to a stop as they reached the end of the formerly blocked roadway. The road behind them was littered with squashed walkers and a variety of detached limbs and body parts and Andrea made a face as she viewed the mess in the side view mirror.

"Son of a bitch!" Merle scowled and he threw open his truck door.

"What are you doing?" Andrea asked with alarm.

"Gettin' my bike, dammit! Fuckin' Darleena! When he's better I'm gonna kick his ass into the middle a the followin' week! Leavin' my bike here to rot! Stupid bastard! He's lucky I didn't clobber him when I laid eyes on it earlier."

Andrea reached over and grabbed Merle by his shirt at his shoulder and pulled. "Shut that door right now! Your bike isn't in any danger and there are still walkers out there!"

Merle whipped his head in her direction and narrowed his eyes at her. "Let go a my shirt, Goldilocks!"

A walker in a rotted three-piece suit stumbled toward the open door, snarling and gnashing its teeth and Andrea's eyes grew wide. "Merle!" she shouted, "_Shut the damned door_! _Now!_"

Merle saw the terror in her eyes and he turned and reached for the door as the walker slipped past it and reached out for him. Merle kicked out his left leg, catching the walker in the stomach and pushing it backward. The walker came at Merle again and this time Merle bent his leg up close to his body before planting his foot in the walkers chest and pushing with all the strength in his leg. The walker flew backward and fell over a log that had been pushed to the side of the roadway, falling on its back and cracking its head open against a cement block like a very big and very rotten egg. Merle slammed the truck door and looked back over at Andrea. She was glaring at him.

"What the _hell_ is the _matter_ with you?! Do you have a death wish or something?!" she shouted.

Merle glared back at her and then the tight-lipped frown on his face disappeared and he grinned. "Awww, you really _do_ care 'bout ol' Merle. Ain't that sweet. What say you an' me check out the hayloft when we get to that farm, maybe roll around in it a bit?"

Andrea pursed her lips. "I _care about_ getting home in one piece," she said. "so you can forget about the roll in the hay. I guess inf you want to be a walker happy meal, that's your business, but do you really think that loud, ridiculous looking piece of crap you call a motorcycle is worth risking your life for?"

Merle went from playful to angry in two seconds. "Now just a minute, woman!" he yelled, pounding his left fist on the steering wheel. "That 'piece of crap' motorcycle is a beyoootiful piece a British machinery! She'll run forever as long as her oil changes are kept up and the plugs are changed when they're s'posed to be! She ain't never let me down in a pinch an' she's tough an' she's got a lot a heart. Shit, if I could find a woman with half the qualities of my bike, I'd be in fuckin' seventh heaven, so d_on't_ be _badmouthin'_ her, dammit!" He looked out at the group of walkers approaching the truck from the woods and said, "I'm stoppin' on the way back from our little trip an' you're helpin' me load her into the back of that F150 of yours, you got that?"

"Let's see," Andrea said as Merle shifted the truck and it lurched forward. She looked toward the sad-looking Bonneville propped up on its kickstand next to a Toyota Prius that had been hit hard in the left rear quarter panel. "Your bike is dirty, it's ugly, it's obnoxious and loud and it has some disgusting and offensive markings on it. Yes, you're right, Dixon. I'd say that sounds exactly like your type of woman."

"Ugly? Are you nuts? She's beautiful and look at the curves on her!" Merle argued.

Andrea looked out the window and smiled to herself. This was too good to pass up and she just had to poke the bear. "I suppose you could make good use of her tailpipes." she said. "but then again, you've probably already tried that."

Merle had to think for a second about what she said and then he raised his eyebrows in surprise before furrowing them as he scowled. "Aw, shuddup!" he snarled and then mumbled almost to himself, "Nasty, dirty lil' pig, Blondie, that's what ya are."

Andrea laughed.

* * *

Daryl was getting damned sick and tired of feeling like shit. His dizzy spells and headaches were frustrating the hell out of him and he hated not feeling like he was contributing anything at all to the group. Hershel had laid down some rules and dammit, Daryl hated rules. Rule number one was that he was absolutely forbidden from going out into the woods and Hershel had firmly insisted that Daryl stay around the house, at least for a week or so. Rule number two: if he left his room, he was to have someone with him. Again, Hershel had been steadfast on this rule. No exceptions.

"What if we come under attack and I need to help…."

"No exceptions."

"But what if.."

Hershel had gotten impatient with Daryl then and he actually frowned at him and raised his voice. "Son, we've been through this before, now what part of 'no' do you not understand? It's really quite simple. 'No' means no. It means that the action following the word 'No' is not to be attempted. The action is not allowed. _No_ walking around by yourself. _No_ running off into the woods, _no_ leaving the grounds. No. No._ No!_ Am I _clear?_ _Are you understanding this?!_"

Daryl had flushed partially with embarrassment and partially with anger but he had kept his temper in check, after all, Hershel was just trying to help him. He'd lowered his eyes and looked at his feet and mumbled, "Yeah, I got it. No doin' _nothin' _without a babysitter present."

His answer seemed to satisfy Hershel because the older man sighed and said, "I hate to be so heavy-handed, but you've proven to be a horrible patient in the past and if anything happens to you, not only do I have to answer to my own conscience, but to your brother and my daughter as well."

Daryl looked up at Hershel and the older man smiled at him and said, "I don't know whose wrath I would dread more, Merle's or Maggie's."

"I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass." Daryl said quietly and sincerely.

"Then don't be one." Hershel said and he stood and patted Daryl gently on his shoulder. "It's just that simple." He was pleased that Daryl hadn't flinched from his touch as he had half expected him to.

* * *

After Hershel left the room, Daryl's nose had started to bleed and a few minutes later Maggie had come into the room. Now she was off fixing him something to eat. Maggie Greene with the big beautiful eyes was in the kitchen preparing food for him. For _him_. It boggled his mind.

He pulled a t-shirt on over his head and held onto his bed to keep his balance as he stuck his feet into his jeans. Maggie was probably getting tired of seeing him in his underwear and he couldn't blame her. "Nothing to see here folks, move along, don't look, you might lose your appetite for your next meal." Daryl climbed back on the bed, leaned back into his pillows and closed his eyes. How the hell had he managed to attract Maggie Greene to his stupid self? He had noticed her as soon as the group had moved onto Hershel's land back at the farm. Just because his main concern was coming up with enough game on his hunts to feed the group and just because he'd been celibate for the last few years after tiring of the empty feeling one night stands brought him didn't mean he still wasn't a red-blooded testosterone producing male who could still appreciate the sight of a beautiful woman. Hell, he'd even stored images of Andrea and Amy in the back of his head when he and Merle had first joined up with the group.

* * *

Back at the quarry, he used those images a couple times in his tent in the early morning hours when he awoke with an almost painful erection, his body wound tight as a spring and aching for release. He'd take care of himself while the two sisters danced through his mind. A brain fart had stopped the Andrea/Amy fantasies abruptly about the third time he'd called upon their images to assist him in his quest to get off before leaving his tent to head into the woods for a day of hunting.

In this fantasy he and Andrea were alone in his tent. It was dark in the tent and they were kissing and he was fondling her breasts. Merle had taken to calling her 'Sugar Tits' and Daryl had to agree that the name was fitting. The woman clearly had some nice boobage going on. Dream Andrea had started to run her hand down Daryl's chest and then stopped and pulled away. "Yuck, what is that?" she said and she pointed to the scar just below Daryl's right collar-bone. Dream Amy had popped her head up from behind Dream Andrea and made a face. "Ewww. That is so gross! Its like you're deformed or something!" Before he could say anything to Dream Andrea or Dream Amy, Dream Andrea grabbed his arm and with super dream strength, she yanked him over onto his stomach, exposing his back to the Dream Sisters. "Oh my God, look at all of them! I think I'm going to barf!" Dream Amy shrieked and she started to make retching noises as she scrambled for the tent opening.

"You are so disgusting!" Dream Andrea scolded. "How dare you even imagine us touching you when your body looks like it was used by Freddy Krueger as a practice dummy!"

"Dummy is right!" Dream Amy's voice said from somewhere outside the tent. Dream Andrea then kneed Daryl in the balls and left, and although it was all in his imagination, he could have sworn that he actually felt it. Needless to say, his "problem" disappeared and he took to the woods a short time later to hunt and Amy and Andrea never starred in his fantasies again.

Daryl had noticed Maggie's big doe eyes, pretty face and her perfect lips right away, but he had never entertained any impure thoughts about her, or ever even considered approaching her. He just thought she was pretty and she looked like she was strong like many farm girls tended to be. She appeared to be quite down to earth and smart, too.

Glenn had zeroed in on her right away and Daryl had watched with amusement when the young Asian man had set out to conquer the headstrong farm girl's heart. Glenn had actually approached Daryl for advice on pursuing Maggie's affections and Daryl had scoffed, saying that he had nothing to offer in the way of advice except that he didn't think it was wise for Glenn to be dipping his pen in the Greene's inkwell, and if he was caught, it was Glenn's funeral, not his. Glenn had walked away disappointed and slightly surprised that Daryl hadn't been more encouraging.

* * *

That all seemed like it had been so long ago. Now Maggie was his girl and he marveled at the wonder of it. _His girl_. He still had trouble believing it and sometimes he wondered if they both weren't making a huge mistake or if they were both just plain crazy. His feelings for her made him vulnerable and he didn't like feeling vulnerable, and he found himself doubting her some times when she told him she loved him. After all, how could she? How could anyone? Still, she insisted that she did and she had gone toe to toe with Merle over him. That impressed him more than anything else.

Daryl was worried about Merle's reaction to his relationship with Maggie. _His relationship with Maggie._ That still sounded so foreign to him. Merle had always made it clear that only pussies indulged in "relationships" with women and that 'real men' saw women basically as a receptacle to drain their balls into on occasion.

Daryl heard the door to his room open and then Maggie's voice said, "Hey, Tiger. You awake?"

Daryl turned his head in her direction and opened his eyes.

Maggie smiled and placed the cutting board tray she carried on his dresser. "Would you like to sit out on the back porch with me and eat there?" she asked. "I thought it would be nice to sit outside. We can't really see the sun set from there, but we can listen to the birds singing their evening songs before they roost for the night." She smiled wider and her eyes got a devilish gleam in them. "Maybe, if you're feeling up to it, we can watch the stars come out and you can teach me all about cricket songs."

Daryl smirked. "You know everythin' I know about cricket songs. I remember. Back at the farm, you brought iced tea down to us one evenin'. You listened in on my conversation with Carl 'bout cricket songs, you sneaky vixen."

Maggie feigned a look of surprise. "What? No! Do you think I would..? Why..Daryl Dixon, are you accusing me of eavesdropping?"

Daryl raised his eyebrows as he continued to smirk at her. "Does a bear shit in the woods?" he asked.

Maggie pursed her lips as though she was deep in thought and then said, "Sometimes they go in fields and sometimes in cabins that they've broken into and I heard that one got into a vehicle and couldn't get out and pooped on the back seat."

Daryl snorted. "I stand corrected. Now what do you have there that smells so damned good?"

"Ham steaks with pineapple slices, candied sweet potatoes, fresh green beans and two pills that you need to take."

"Ham steaks? Really?" Daryl said as he slowly sat up on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath as his equilibrium returned to normal and then opened them and looked at Maggie.

She had a worried look on her face and had taken a step toward him and he put up his hands and shooe'd her back with them. "m okay, just need a second to catch my balance."

Maggie looked at him doubtfully. "Maybe we should just eat in…"

"Bullshit on that, we're goin' out on the porch." Daryl said as he stood up.

Maggie picked up the cutting board tray and followed behind Daryl as he limped to the door to the porch and opened it. He held it open for her and she said, "No, you go ahead, I'm right behind you."

Daryl stood holding the door open for her. "No," he said, "I insist. Ladies before gentlemen."

Maggie smiled. "You go ahead, she said, "'Age before beauty.'"

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Ain't never heard that one before." he said. "Now get that sassy ass a yours out this door now."

"Oh," Maggie said, "I get it. You aren't being chivalrous, you just want to look at my butt."

"Can't I be chivalrous and still want to look at your butt? They ain't mutually exclusive, are they?"

Maggie sighed and walked out the door as Daryl held it open for her. He surprised himself more than Maggie when he reached out and gave her bottom a light smack as she passed in front of him. She jumped a little, but not enough to dump the food she carried and he chuckled. "Sorry." he said. "I was overcome by a strange, compulsive desire ta do that."

Maggie put the cutting board tray on the porch bench. "So you just couldn't help it." she said.

Daryl limped over near the bench and slowly sat down in the rocking chair next to it. "That's my story an' I'm stickin' to it." he said.

Maggie handed him a plate and some silverware just as Dale came up onto the porch from the back yard. He had returned to the smoldering pile of what was left of the burned walkers to hose down the pile of ashes and bmone fragments.

Rick had decided to postpone his meeting until after dinner, his reasoning being that people were unusually more attentive and agreeable when their bellies were full. He also wanted Maggie and if possible, Daryl, at the meeting as well.

"Rick's postponed his meeting until after dinner and something smells very, very good," Dale said cheerfully as he approached Maggie and Daryl.

"Ham steaks and pineapple with candied sweet potatoes and green beans. There's enough in the kitchen for everyone and last time I was in there, most everyone was still in the water or sunbathing so there should still be plenty." Maggie said with a smile.

"That sounds terrific! I'd best get in the kitchen then and get my share before Carl takes it." Dale said as he turned on his heels. "He's been using the 'I'm a growing boy' mantra a bit too much lately."

Daryl stabbed a piece of ham with his fork and Maggie sat down on the bench near him. He had just raised his head to tell her how good the ham was when a shot rang out from the woods.

Dale fell over onto the porch floor without a sound, blood pouring from the gunshot wound that had ripped out a good portion of his neck below his chin.

Daryl was up in a second as more shots rang out. He grabbed Maggie and spun around so his back faced the back yard and he positioned Maggie in front of him, shielding her with his body, "Get inside!" he yelled as bullets hit the log wall next to them. He steered Maggie toward the door to his room, still holding her in front of him. More shots rang out and Daryl surmised by the sound that there was just one shooter. He reached in front of Maggie and pushed the door open just as more shots were fired.

* * *

Rick threw the kitchen door open and peered outside. He turned around and told Lori, Carl, Glenn and Beth who had all followed him into the kitchen to stay back. Rick was still out on the back deck with almost everyone else when the shooting had started he had grabbed the Ruger SR556 that was sitting in the living room closet on his way to the kitchen.

They were under attack, but it sounded like only one gun was being used in the assault. The shooting stopped and Rick peered through the scope on the 556 into the woods. He was scanning the treeline when he saw a small bright red dot and he aimed at the shadowy figure he could make out behind the assault rifle's sites and pulled the trigger. There was a shout from the unknown figure hiding in the trees at the treeline and then the sound of twigs cracking and breaking as the figure fell to the ground. Rick scanned the treeline again with the scope but could see no movement. He glanced to his left and saw Dale lying on the porch. A large puddle of blood had collected around his head and Rick's eyes widened when he saw that most of Dale's neck had been blown apart and his spine and his ripped trachea and esophagus were exposed. Rick felt his stomach turn. His eyes widened further and he ran out onto the porch when he looked down toward the entrance to Daryl's room.

Broken glass and silverware littered the porch floor by the bench along with chunks and splinters of wood. The door to Daryl's room was propped open, held in place by the two bodies on the floor half in and half out of the room. Maggie was lying face down on her stomach beneath Daryl who still covered her, his face buried in the back of her neck and his arms still wrapped protectively around her.


	33. Chapter 33

**Sorry for the update delay! I've been working a ton of overtime lately and it seems all I do is work, come home, go to bed, get up and go to work! I have this story all mapped out in my head and I know how it will end, but it might take a while to get there. Hopefully, this won't be as long as Exile was. Again, I apologize for the delay and the lack of Merle in this chapter as well.**

Hershel was upstairs when the shooting started. Rick had postponed the meeting he wanted to have with everyone and Hershel had retired to the third floor office to peruse the bookshelves. He had found several more interesting medical and psychology books as well as a few more disturbing ones. When he heard the gunshots he left his new stack of books and jogged down the stairs and the second floor hallway as quickly as he could.

Maggie and Beth were his first concerns and he knew Beth had been on the front deck by the lake with the other members of the group and Maggie had been planning to eat out on the back porch with Daryl. The shots had come from behind the house and after descending the stairs from the second floor, Hershel burst into Daryl's room from the hallway to check on his eldest daughter.

His eyes grew wide when he saw Maggie and Daryl motionless on the floor in the doorway leading onto the porch. Daryl was draped over Maggie with his arms around her as if he'd been trying to shield her with his body and Hershel was sure they had both been killed. He shouted Maggie's name as he hurried across the room toward her.

He hadn't quite reached the pair and he stopped short when he heard Daryl speak. "Get down, Hershel!" Daryl hissed. "You wanna get shot?"

"You...you're alive?"

Even in a bullshit situations like this one, Daryl had a hard time keeping his mouth in check. It had nearly killed him when he'd mouthed off at Morey when he was being held at Woodbury and now it was off and running again with some smart ass remark before he could stop it. "No, I'm one a them new improved walkers that talks n' stuff." he said.

Hershel was rendered speechless by Daryl's remark.

Daryl flinched and bit his lower lip when Maggie jabbed him in the arm with her elbow. He knew that he'd deserved that for being so flippant with her father at a time like this.

"I'm okay, daddy," Maggie said quietly as she raised her head slightly and looked into Hershel's eyes to reassure him that she wasn't just humoring him. She put her head back down and Daryl rested his on the back of her neck.

Rick came into Hershel's view and he dropped to his knees next to Daryl and Maggie in the doorway.

Another shot rang out from the woods and the in the door frame about five inches from Rick's head exploded in a shower of splinters as the bullet hit it.

Hershel hit the ground and inched over behind Daryl's bed and out of harm's way.

"Dammit Rick," Daryl growled without raising his head. "Get down and stay down! You tryin' to get yourself killed?"

Rick flattened himself down on the ground next to Daryl. "Shit, Daryl, you two damned near gave me a heart attack! I thought you were dead!" he said and Daryl could hear the relief in his voice.

"Guys in the woods thought we was dead, too. That was the idear behind playin' 'possum." Daryl whispered. "They stopped shootin' at us when they thought they'd killed us."

Rick quickly crawled over Daryl and into the room and scrambled to get behind the bed. Another shot was fired from the woods, hitting the outside wall.

Daryl brushed Maggie's hair away from her ear, tucking the wavy strands behind it before he put his mouth close to it and quietly said, "You go now, Mags. Just slide along on your belly, quick as you can an' get behind the bed with Rick an' your dad. I got your back. Ain't gonna let no one hurt you."

Maggie felt his warm breath on her ear as he spoke softly to her. In a different situation, she would have found Daryl whispering in her ear to be quite romantic. That certainly wasn't the case this time. And what the hell was he doing? "But what about.." Maggie whispered in protest.

"What about nothin'! Just go already!" Daryl snarled and another shot rang out. He quickly released his hold on Maggie and sat up on his knees to block any view of her from outside the house.

Maggie scrambled on her belly away from where Daryl had been protectively holding her against the floor and went around the edge of the bed and out of sight of anyone looking into the room from behind the house.

Two more shots rang out and someone shouted from the woods. "Stop! Stop shooting at them!"

"Fuck you, I'm killin' them all!" another voice in the woods shouted.

Daryl scrambled out of the doorway and ducked behind the bed.

The two voices in the woods started to argue, but no one in the house could hear them well enough now to be able to tell what was being said. Rick looked at Daryl and Hershel and then back at Daryl. Hershel looked anxious and afraid and Daryl just looked incredibly pissed off. Rick hoped the other group members were staying well enough away from the kitchen door and the windows. What a damned mess. Of course something like this would happen right after he postponed a meeting about stepping up security around the house.

Lori's voice came from out in the hall beside Daryl's doorway. "Are you all okay?" she asked.

"They killed Dale," Rick told her. "Everyone else seems to be okay. Lori, get away from the doorway and take everyone into the living room. Keep them inside and away from any windows or outside doors. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes." Lori was quiet for a second and then said, "Carl wants to know if we should arm ourselves."

Rick looked over at Daryl. "What do you think?" he asked.

This surprised Daryl. Why the hell would Rick Grimes want his opinion on anything? After all, Rick was the leader of the group and he was just their hunter and hell, they didn't even need him for that anymore. He was pretty much worthless. Rick had asked for his opinion, though, and it would be rude to reply with a smarmy comment as he was first inclined to. If Rick scoffed at the opinion he volunteered, though, especially after he'd asked to hear it, Daryl would put the smarmy comeback to good use. "Might not be a bad idear." he answered cautiously. "But only one or two of 'em should go retrieve what they need. Why the hell ain't there more weapons stored on the first floor?"

"We have them in our bedrooms on second floor." Rick explained. "And of course, the war room on third floor is full of them. Ground floor I guess I figured we'd be carrying our personal weapons so all we've got is a Ruger SR556 in the living room closet. We'll have to fix that."

"Hey!" a voice called loudly from the woods. "Hey, you people in the house! I surrender!"

"What?!" the other voice in the woods shouted. "You can't surrender, you idiot!"

"Tony, I don't know about you, but I don't wanna die! Roger's dead and these people didn't do a damned thing to us!" the first voice shouted.

Daryl was crouching next to Maggie who was between Daryl and her father. Her father had rested his hand on Maggie's left shoulder and Maggie had grasped Daryl's left hand and held it in her right one.

Daryl squeezed Maggie's hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it before releasing it and sliding over closer to "Rick. Maggie gave him a puzzled look.

"Go ahead and send Carl upstairs for weapons," Rick whispered to Lori. Lori stayed out of sight but her footsteps could be heard as she walked away from the doorway to give Carl his instructions.

"It don't matter, they got stuff we need!" shouted the other voice from the woods.

Daryl got Rick's attention by lightly kicking his leg. Rick looked at him and Daryl pointed to the Ruger SSR lying across Rick's lap. "That thing got any more rounds left in it?" he asked quietly.

Rick shrugged and handed the rifle to Daryl. Daryl released the magazine and extracted the bullets as he counted them. There were ten left. He placed them back in the magazine. Ten rounds. On any other day that would be plenty, but his head was a mess lately so he just hoped it would be enough. Daryl snapped the magazine back into the rifle and climbed over the bed and then stood next to the doorway that led out onto the porch. As soon as the voices started arguing again, he pinpointed the location of the more hostile of the two men in the woods and swung the rifle barrel up, pointed it in his direction and shot four rounds one after the other into the woods. The second shot was immediately followed by a scream from the woods.

"I'm hit! I'm hit!" the voice of the hostile gunman shouted.

"Got you in the leg, did I?" Daryl shouted.

"Yes, you fucking son of a bitch!" the hostile voice shouted back.

"I was just basin' my shootin' on where your voice was comin' from." Daryl roared. "Now I know where you are, you gonna come out a hidin' or should I just finish you off with a headshot right now?"

The angry voice shouted, "That was dumb luck! You aren't that good of a shot, fuckin' tough guy! Just try and hit me again, motherfucker! You'll be dead meat first!" and his gun barked and a bullet hit the top of the door casing, showering Daryl with splinters.

"Okay, your choice!" Daryl yelled back and he looked down the sights on top of the rail and fired. The last six rounds in the magazine spit from the barrel and then the other voice screamed and then shouted from the woods. "Not me! It wasn't me! I surrender! Please, I don't even have a gun!"

Maggie and Hershel looked at each other and then at Rick who was intently watching Daryl as he stood leaning against the wall next to the doorway.

"What about your loudmouthed buddy?" Daryl called out.

"You killed him. His head is...is...gone. It's just...gone! Please, please don't kill me!"

Daryl looked over at Rick and raised his eyebrows. All eyes in the room turned to Rick. They all knew exactly what Daryl was asking without saying a word. Did Rick want him to take this guy out or did they want to accept his offer of surrender and question him?

Rick furrowed his brow. He was glad that Daryl was looking to him for instructions on what to do next. He had felt almost offended and as though Daryl was challenging his leadership when the redneck had asked if the Ruger AR15 had any rounds left in it and then had proceeded to use it to engage the men in the woods by himself and without running his plan by Rick first. Still, it was sometimes easier to let others make decisions and Rick didn't really want to be saddled with this one, but if he didn't step up now, Daryl might think Rick was passing the decision-making baton over to him. Daryl was physically not in any shape for any leadership role and Rick seriously doubted Daryl's ability to make decisions that were best for the group in the long run. Besides, Daryl obviously wouldn't be comfortable heading up the group. After all, Daryl Dixon was no leader, he was a follower, and he certainly wasn't a 'people person'.

"Might as well get what we can for information from him." Rick said.

Daryl nodded and looked out toward the woods. "How many a you out there now?" he asked loudly.

"Just me...just me now. You guys killed Tony and Roger."

"So there was just the three a you?" Daryl asked.

"Yes, yes. Please, I think I hear some biters coming, I'm going to come out with my hands up, okay?" Daryl didn't say anything and the voice from the woods called out again and everyone who heard it could hear the desperation in it. "Please? Please?! Just let me come out, I have no weapons, and this wasn't my idea! Oh, Lord, they're getting closer! I'm coming out now!"

Daryl watched the place on the tree line where the voice was coming from and a few seconds later he saw a youngish looking man, probably in his early twenties, walk out of the trees with his arms up and his hands high in the air. Daryl stepped out onto the porch and brought the AR15 up, following the young man's progress toward the gate. There were no bullets left in the rifle, but the young man didn't know that.

Daryl's peripheral vision started to become foggy and he suddenly felt like he was standing on an elevator that was going down way too fast. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His body had just put him on notice that one hell of a headache would be showing up in a minute or so. He looked over his shoulder toward the door, "Rick, could you come here?" he asked as he slowly lowered the gun, still keeping his eyes on the young man.

Maggie saw Daryl stagger back two steps and she immediately knew exactly what was happening and she grabbed Rick's arm. "You need to get out there and take over," she said to Rick quietly. "Daryl needs to get inside. Now."

Rick stepped quickly out onto the porch. He saw the young man struggling to open the gate and he reached over and placed his hand on Daryl's shoulder. Daryl glanced over at Rick and offered him the assault rifle. "Out a bullets." he whispered. "but he don't know that." Rick nodded as he took the gun from Daryl.

* * *

Daryl shuffled toward the door and stopped to lean against the door casing as his headache hit him full force. He closed his eyes and dropped his head and took a deep breath. He could hear Rick's voice far away barking orders at the young man who had just surrendered. He didn't realize that his knees were trembling and he'd started to slide down the door casing until he felt Maggie's arm slide around his waist from his right and then Hershel was grasping him by his left arm as they pulled him back up.

The last thing he wanted to do was look weak in front of this newcomer. "Don't need no help from y'all." he grumbled and he opened his eyes and raised his head as he shook them both off. The concern on their faces surprised him and he smirked. "I'm okay." he said as stepped into the room and hobbled toward the overstuffed chair by the closet as Maggie and Hershel followed close behind him. He sank down into the chair and sighed as he leaned back and closed his eyes again.

Maggie crouched down beside the chair as her father walked into the bathroom. She placed her hand over Daryl's and he moved it away from her touch, so she pulled her hand back. "Dad's getting something for your headache." she said. Daryl nodded without opening his eyes and Maggie could see beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. She could tell he was pain and she tried to be encouraging. "You are amazing." Maggie said into his ear. "I don't know what we would all do without you. Poor Dale, though."

Daryl opened his eyes wide and sat up quickly. His rapid motion was rewarded with a sensation not unlike being struck between the eyes with a steel pipe and he gasped before he could stop himself and screwed his eyes shut before opening them again.

"Daryl!" Maggie cried out in alarm. "Are you.."

"Dale." Daryl said. "Before he changes, we gotta.." he grabbed the arms of the chair with both of his hands and pushed himself up onto his feet. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest as his head pounded in time to it and he staggered toward the porch door.

Hershel appeared in the bathroom door holding a syringe and gave Maggie a surprised look as Daryl stumbled toward the doorway. "Just where do you think.."

"Dale. Gotta keep him from comin' back before it's too late." Daryl said as he reached the doorway and grabbed on to the door casing to steady himself.

Maggie was at his side in a second and she hooked her arm around his waist. "Don't you dare be pushing me away," she warned him as they both stepped out onto the porch.

"I need a hammer and a Phillips head screwdriver." Daryl said as he attempted to push her away despite what she had said. "An' I need 'em now!"

"But.."

"Don't argue with me, jes' get 'em!" Daryl snapped.

Maggie stepped back, ready to answer him back. He didn't have to behave like such a dick towards her, did he?

"Please." Daryl added as he glanced back at her. She was looking at him with wide, confused eyes, and did he detect a bit of anger in there as well? He decided he must have been mistaken about the anger, because she turned on her heels and bolted from the room into the hallway.

Hershel came along side Daryl as he limped across the porch toward where Dale lay in a heap on the porch. Rick and Glenn were escorting the young man into the house through the kitchen door and Daryl saw that Glenn was holding the Mossberg 500 that Shane had favored to the newcomer's back.

Daryl dropped to his knees next to Dale's head and wrinkled his brow as the pounding in his head intensified. He took a deep breath and then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Hershel and the older man shook his head. "Don't. Someone else can..."

"I got them!" Maggie's breathless voice broke in as she ran from Daryl's door and came to an abrupt stop next to him. She thrust the content of her hands out to Daryl.

Daryl looked into her eyes as he took the hammer and the screwdriver from her. He saw sadness and understanding in Maggie's green-gray eyes and he dropped his eyes as he saw tears developing there. He had to do this and he didn't want to be distracted.

"Andrea was close to him." Daryl said quietly. "Ain't right to make a mess a people we care 'bout if we don't hafta."

Maggie bit her lower lip and nodded and her father put his hand on her shoulder.

Daryl could feel the knees of his jeans becoming wet as he knelt in the puddle of Dale's blood now coagulating on the porch. He turned Dale's head to the side and placed the tip of the screwdriver in Dale's left ear and slanted it so it pointed up toward the top of Dale's head. He used his right hand to do this as he wanted to use his good hand to hold the hammer. (Good hand? Is that what a hand with all the fingers intact was to him now? Shit, he thought, used to be a good hand was something you held in a game of cards if you were lucky.) He wiped the blood on his right hand off on his jeans and then took hold of the hammer and brought it down on the top of the screwdriver's handle as hard as he could.

Maggie jumped as Daryl struck the first blow. It took three hammer blows to push the screwdriver deep into Dale's brain.

Daryl then rolled Dale partially over and turned his head so he could access his right ear. He cringed when he saw that Dale's head was held onto his body only by half of a cervical vertebra and that he could probably pull Dale's head right off with one good yank. He wiped his slippery, bloody hands off on his jeans again. Daryl felt bile rise up into his throat and he swallowed hard as he placed the bloody, tissue covered screwdriver into Dale's right ear and brought the hammer down on the top of the screwdriver handle.

Daryl had a hard time pulling the screwdriver out of Dale's head this time when he was done and he had to wriggle the handle back and forth several times before he was finally able to extract it. He dropped the screwdriver and the hammer to the porch floor and slowly stood up.

Maggie was torn as she watched Daryl sway as he stood over Dale's body. She wanted so badly to offer to help Daryl back to his room, but she didn't want to upset him by asking him if he needed her help. He had already brushed her and her father off when they had tried to help him and she didn't want to risk totally pissing him off. Damned Dixon pride, she thought as he limped by her toward the door to his room. She couldn't help it and she reached out and took his arm.

"Don't." he grumbled as he pulled it away from her. "'S all bloody."

"But I want to help you." Maggie said.

"Don't need your help. I ain't a fuckin' invalid." Daryl continued to mutter as he hobbled toward the door to his room.

Maggie rolled her eyes and looked over at her father who was following behind Daryl next to her. To her surprise, her father had a hint of a smile on his face and a glint in his eye. He winked at her and she raised her eyebrows. Her father found Daryl's cantankerous behavior amusing? Her father shrugged and Maggie just shook her head. What the hell was wrong with him and Daryl? They had just been attacked and dear, sweet Dale had been killed and now Daryl was acting as grumpy as a PMSing grizzly bear and her father was smiling like a half-wit as he followed the cranky redneck into his room.

* * *

Glenn finished securing the prisoner to one of the dining room chairs with handcuffs as Rick retrieved his Python from his room and then strode across the back lawn toward where the shots that were fired at the house and that had killed Dale had come from. He had walked out the door onto the porch as Daryl was working to remove a screwdriver from Dale's head and Rick was grateful that Daryl had taken care of the unpleasant but necessary job of insuring that Dale didn't come back as a walker.

He let himself through the gate and then walked across the overgrown strip of field that separated the fenced in back yard from the tree line. As he approached the trees he heard muffled growls and groans and then the wet, smacking and crunching noises of flesh being ripped from newly dead bodies and consumed. Rick moved quietly through the trees and peeked around the large, thick trunk of a pine tree. Two walkers were feeding on what had been a large man with a rather large belly. Ten feet from him was another body, Rick couldn't begin to tell much of anything about the man as four of the walkers had decided that he tasted exceptionally delicious and one was chewing merrily on what had been the man's face. The flesh had been peeled off the man's jaw and neck so that the mandible was visible and the eyes, nose and lips had already been devoured. Rick felt his stomach roll. He had seen a lot of partially consumed bodies in the last several months, but this one was particularly gruesome.

He counted the number of walkers, six and he brought up his Colt Python and started blasting away at the feeding group. They dropped one by one, heads exploding with the force of impact of the .45 lead tips as they struck their rotting targets. The smell of gun smoke and rotting flesh permeated the air and Rick was quiet and listened to see if he could hear any more walkers in the vicinity.

When he was satisfied that he had gotten them all, he reloaded his Python and put a round into both of the stranger's heads. He gathered up the two assault rifles the two dead men had carried and using their slings, he shouldered both of them before heading back to the house. A grave needed to be dug for Dale and the walkers and the bodies of the attackers needed to be burned. He would head up those projects when he was done dealing with the man that had surrendered to them.

* * *

Rick was met by Glenn as he entered the kitchen door. "We might have a problem on our hands." Glenn said.

"Let me guess," Rick said. "Kid's from a big group and they don't play well with others. Sort of a looting brigade. Do I win the prize?"

Glenn scratched his head. "Yes. Part of it anyway. I don't think you're going to like it very well, though. The kid's name is Randall. His group has about twenty five guys in it and apparently some of them make Merle Dixon look like the Dalai Lama."

Rick sighed. "Guess I should have a talk with him, then." he said. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of Coke and walked into the dining room with Glenn at his heels.

* * *

Daryl was sick of being babied. Damned sick of it.

"Y'all can give me whatever the hell you want for this headache and I promise, I'll be much obliged, and I'll get into bed like a good boy, but dammit, I gotta step into the shower first!" Daryl snapped as he limped toward the bathroom. Maggie and Hershel were being downright snitty about getting something into him to stop the pain and getting him down to rest. Hershel had handed a syringe to Maggie and left the room a minute earlier when he got to the point where his patience with Daryl had worn thin and he started entertaining thoughts of hogtying Daryl to the bed and forcefully giving him a shot.

"Okay." Maggie said, thoughtfully. "We went over this. It is understandable that you'd want to clean up, but look at you! You're swaying like a sapling in a hurricane! I'm just afraid that you're going to lock yourself in there and then pass out. I think taking a shower is a good idea, if you just let me come in with you."

"Shit, no." Daryl snorted. "You ain't gonna watch me take a damned shower."

"Why not? It might be fun." Maggie said.

"Tell you what, I'll leave the door unlocked and get in the shower and if I ain't out in ten minutes, you can come in and fetch me."

"Six minutes." Maggie said.

Daryl winced and nodded. "Okay, six minutes. In the meantime, go see what Rick and all a them have found out about the guy that surrendered to us and his group."

"I can do that after you get out of the shower." Maggie said. She walked over and plopped herself down in the overstuffed chair by the closet. "Until you walk back out that door," she said as she pointed to the bathroom door, "I'll be sitting right here."

"Suit yourself." Daryl said as he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the cool rock and mortar wall and closed his eyes. His head was pounding and he wanted nothing more than to crawl up onto his big, comfortable bed and close his eyes as whatever Hershel had chosen to shoot him up with chased his headache away, but he had blood on him. Dale's blood. His jeans were wet with it and droplets had splattered up onto his face as he'd leaned forward to drive the screwdriver into Dale's head. He unbuckled his belt and let his jeans fall to his ankles and stepped out of them. The room started to sway so he staggered like a drunkard over to the toilet and sat on the seat, holding both sides so he wouldn't fall off it. "Stupid vertigo" he mumbled. The pain in his head was getting worse and he knew he had to hurry, so he took a deep breath and pulled his t shirt off over his head. He looked down at his briefs, wondering at first if he was so fucked up in the head that he'd pissed himself, but the briefs were wet with blood. Was it Dale's blood? He stood up quickly, and his head spun and he grabbed the bathroom wall and leaned into it. Of course it was Dale's blood. Either that or he was the first man on earth to start menstruating. He sighed. Sometimes his thoughts were just so foolish, he thought as he pulled the briefs down. 'Be a hell of an excuse when I'm accused of being grumpy.' he thought.

He inched his way along the wall until he reached the shower fixtures and turned the water on. He had completely lost his peripheral vision and could only see what was directly in front of him and his headache had gotten even worse. Symptoms of a sudden rise in blood pressure, he thought. He stood under the water and soaped himself up. He watched as the red tinted soapy water swirled around in the drain before being sucked down into the drain pipe. The dizziness started to get worse and he turned off the water and held on to the wall as he made his way to the sink where he'd placed a large bath towel. "Fuckin' bullshit is what it is," he mumbled as he slowly wrapped the towel around him. He sat down on the toilet seat again and took a deep breath. Shit. He was fading fast and he knew it.

* * *

Maggie pulled her eyes from page 8 of "HP Lovecraft's The Necromancer" and stared at the bathroom door. She had just heard Daryl call out to her. Or had she? Had she hoped so much that he would that she had imagined it? She stood up and walked to the bathroom door.

"Maggie?" Daryl's voice said from behind the door.

"I'm right here." she answered through the door.

Everything was quiet for a few seconds, then Maggie heard Daryl clear his throat and say. "Um...I..." he sighed and then said, "You think I could get a little help from you?"

Maggie smiled and pushed the door open.


	34. Chapter 34

**Another Merle hogging chapter! Edgads! Thank you for your reviews and for putting up with the sporadic updates lately. I appreciate that you're hanging in there!**

Merle sputtered and cussed for the next few miles after leaving his beloved Bonneville behind him once again. Andrea kept her mouth shut for a while despite wanting to tell him to shut the hell up about that damned stupid bike. Merle had made it perfectly clear that he was half in love with the funny looking, beat up piece of machinery and Andrea didn't want to foul his mood any further. She had observed enough of Merle and Daryl to know that when the Dixons were feeling cranky, it was a good idea to get far away from them. That wasn't an option for her so she decided silence was her best bet.

Merle stopped bellyaching about the bike and drove in silence. Andrea glanced over at him after five minutes of unnatural quiet. Merle was staring straight ahead at the road in front of him, jaw clenched shut and brow furrowed into a glare that Andrea was sure would have overpowered Medusa herself and turned her to stone. If Merle was angry and was holding it in and not venting immediately as appeared to be his nature, then a big time storm was brewing inside him and the explosion when it finally did occur would be spectacular. This observation worried Andrea. She remembered what had happened on the roof in Atlanta and if Merle went nuclear, she didn't want to be anywhere near him. She decided to try to defuse what she saw as the ticking time bomb sitting next to her driving the truck.

She turned to Merle and broke the silence. "I'll help you load up your bike on our way back," she said, "but I do have one condition."

Merle glanced over at her with an annoyed look on his face. "Yeah? And what might that be? You want me to find some fancy dancy restaurant to break into an' see if they got any Dom Perignon or Cristal champagne in the wine cellar for you an' your little hoighty toighty buddies to party with? Fuck that, Goldilocks. I ain't doin' no favors for anyone after we grab my dumb ass little brother's crossbow."

Andrea bit her bottom lip to keep from telling Merle just what she thought of him right then. She felt her cheeks flush red with anger but quickly decided she wasn't going to let Merle bait her.

"I was hoping that after we got it that sometime you'd teach me how to ride it." she said.

Merle laughed. "Right. 'Cause you're just the type of uppity witch that would want to add ridin' a chopper to her repertoire of things to do for fun. Yep, learnin' to ride my bike is right below attendin' fancy cocktail parties and thousand dollar a plate asshole liberal political fundraisers. .."

Andrea exploded. "You are such a jackass, Merle!" she shouted. She grit her teeth in anger, folded her arms across her chest and looked out the passenger window. So much for keeping quiet.

"Hey, I didn't want you to come with me to get Derle's stupid crossbow to begin with!" Merle yelled.

"Why not?!" Andrea yelled back. "I took a shower! I don't stink and I have it on good authority that I'm pretty good company! You should be happy to have me as a traveling companion, you Neanderthal!"

"Neanderthal? Neanderthal!? Good Lord, Sugar Tits, don't be usin' them thar big words with ol' Merle! I'm so fuckin' stooopid that I won't understand what you're insinuating! Excuuuuuse me for not groveling at your finely pedicured feet, your highness!" Merle yelled as he got red in the face.

"See? You piss me off so much that I end up saying stuff I don't mean!" Andrea shouted.

"Just shut it, you 'holier than thou' stuck up bitch! You meant exactly what you said! I know what y'all think a me and my brother an' I don't give a flying rat's ass! We're nothin' but dog shit to y'all an' maybe that bothers Derle but it don't bother me none. Far as I'm concerned, Derle an' me, we know how to survived in this new fucked up world and that makes each a us worth ten of each a you!"

Andrea sighed. "You're right." she said quietly.

"You're darned tootin' I'm right." Merle snapped.

Andrea peeked over at him and he had that damned Dixon Smirk plastered to his face.

"I'll just sit here and keep my mouth shut." Andrea said meekly.

"Yeah, you just do that an' meanwhile I'll sprout a pair a wings and a halo an' fly out the window." Merle replied.

"Look, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to call you a Neanderthal." Andrea said.

Merle didn't reply. He pursed his lips and stared straight ahead as he drove.

Andrea thought that Merle had decided to ignore her for the rest of the trip to the farm and she looked away from Merle and gazed out the window at the passing landscape.

They'd driven a couple more miles in silence when Merle suddenly said. "Sure. I'll teach you to ride my bike. Might be good for some laughs."

Andrea kept her eyes on the passing landscape but she smiled and said, "It might be at that. I really would like to learn to ride. Seriously. It looks like it could be a lot of fun and it certainly would be easier to maneuver a motorcycle around a highway full of dead vehicles."

"I ain't gonna lie, Goldilocks. You'd look great on a bike a your own. So badass. Shit, I'm about droolin' on myself just imaginin' it. Hell, Derle can teach the Spitfire to ride and then we can all go bike shoppin' at a couple a cycle dealerships, pick out some nice bikes for you girls. Grab you some leather jackets and chaps an' stuff while we're there. We can have us our own little club, 'Hogs and Hooters' or 'Tits and Tatts', make up some t-shirts an' …," he couldn't keep up the ruse any longer and he let loose a snort before he burst into laughter.

"What? You're kidding?" Andrea said, sounding truly disappointed.

Merle peeked over at her as she slouched down in her seat. Her messy blonde hair hid part of her face but he could see her pretty mouth as it morphed into what could only be described as a toddler's pout and he laughed even harder.

"Awww, don't be sad, darlin'," he chuckled after he'd gotten control of himself again. "I'll teach you to ride and maybe, just maybe we will get you a bike. The club idear is totally off limits, though.

The pout left Andrea's face and she smiled warmly at Merle.

Damn, but she was beautiful when she smiled, he thought and he quickly looked away from her and back at the road. "So tell me, Derle and the Spitfire been bumpin' uglies for a while? Gotta say, I was plenty surprised to see Derle got himself a woman."

Andrea smiled. "It's a pretty recent development. I don't know if they've even reached the 'ugly bumping' stage. Maggie was with Glenn before she and Daryl started to get close. She shared a room with Glenn and everyone thought they were serious and in love. I guess they probably were for a little while. "

Merle's eyes got big. "What? You serious?" He smirked and shook his head. "The chink seems like a good kid. More the girl's age, too. She was smart she woulda stayed with 'im."

"That isn't a very nice thing to imply about Daryl." Andrea said.

"Maybe it ain't, but it's honest. Derle's damaged goods. He don't have it in him to care for a girl like she'd really want 'im to. She'll confuse the shit outta him an' he won't know how to act and she'll end up gettin' so damned frustrated with him that she'll leave 'im soon enough. I'm willin' to bet on it."

"Really? You must not have seen what I saw here in this barn. It sure looked to me like he had it in him to care for Maggie."

Merle grinned. "Nah, looked like he had it in him to throw her down and fuck 'er, but that ain't the same, now, is it?"

"Oh come on, Merle. You're such a pig!" Andrea exclaimed. "That was so not an 'I want to throw you down and fuck you' kiss. It was a sweet, 'I love you and I'm so happy to see you' kiss."

Merle snorted. "You women, always makin' somethin' romantic outta stuff that ain't."

"What have you got against romance, Dixon?" Andrea asked with a devilish grin. "You can't tell me that you've never been in love or had romantic feelings for someone before."

Merle laughed. "Sure I can. I love a good fuck as well as the next guy but I won't play the love an' romance game. It's all bullshit. Let me tell you somethin' Goldilocks; bein' in love is an illusion. Justification for actin' on lustful thoughts. A woman will open her legs in a heartbeat if she can tell herself she's doin' it for love. It's all a big, fat lie. That love an' romance shit is for pussies, fags, women an' touchy feely girly men. "

Andrea rolled her eyes and looked out the window again. "Wow, you really are a wet blanket, aren't you?" she said.

"Nope, I'm a realist. You get what you see with me. I ain't gonna pretend to be some love-struck Romeo or blow sunshine up anyone's ass in order to get laid, but I will tell you straight up, Andi, that I think you're a damned fine lookin' woman and I'd love to see you naked."

Andrea actually blushed before she cleared her throat and replied. "Don't hold your breath."

"Don't have to. You took a shower." Merle shot back.

* * *

The sun was low in the sky when Merle pulled up next to the Ford F150 by barn where Daryl's crossbow had been left. He noticed that Daryl's truck was missing and he could see the skeletal remains that used to be Morey between the large sliding barn door and the F150. There were no active walkers to be seen, but there were several 'dead' ones littering the ground. Merle leaned back and grabbed a Commando from the extra cab behind his seat and checked the magazine. It was a window mag and it was full. Thirty shots. That should be enough for starters, he thought. Andrea chambered a round in her Ladysmith and said, "How do you want to do this?"

"Do you have the keys to the F150?" Merle asked.

Andrea nodded and patted the pocket of her jeans.

"I'll just skip on inside and grab the bow. You get into your truck and we'll be on our way. I'll follow you, but you damn best stop when we get to my Bonneville, you hear?"

"Yes, sir." Andrea said in a snarky tone of voice.

Merle jumped out of the truck and looked around and listened. All was relatively quiet and then he thought he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. Andrea was just getting out of the passenger side of Merle's truck and he called over to her. "Someone's comin', come on into the barn with me, now!"

Andrea ran around the front of the truck and they both ran around the side of the barn and slipped into the building through the side door. Merle closed the door behind them and pointed to the ladder that led up into the hayloft. "Climb up there as fast as you can, I'm right behind you." he said as he checked the Commando slung over his shoulder. He ran toward the loft ladder, stopping only for a second to grab Daryl's crossbow that was leaning against the thick beam right where he'd put it.

Andrea scrambled up the ladder climbing over the rungs that had been damaged by Morey's shooting earlier and pulled herself into a standing position as Merle came up behind her.

Merle reached the top of the ladder with the Commando and the crossbow banging against his back and he moved to stand up quickly. He grabbed Andrea's arm and led her over behind two stacks of rectangular hay bales and pulled two bales down and stacked them at the opening of their hiding place to block anyone's side view of them.

Andre and Merle both heard the truck approach, it sounded like it had a diesel engine as it approached from the back side of the barn.

Merle listened closer and he could hear a second vehicle approaching with the diesel truck. This one had a big V8 under the hood by the sounds of it and it was not too far behind the first truck. Merle let loose a small sigh of relief. Whoever was driving the vehicles was going to park up by the horse stable at the back of the barn. With luck, they wouldn't even see his truck or the group's F150 parked in front of the barn.

Andrea looked at him wide eyed and he leaned into her and spoke quietly into her ear. "Just sit tight. They don't know we're here and our vehicles aren't in their line a sight. We don't do nothin' unless we're in danger a bein' found. I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to ya, so just relax as best you can, okay?"

He pulled his head away from Andrea's ear and gave her a smirk and put his finger to his lips.

Andrea nodded and decided she would do whatever Merle said. After all, he had been in the military, hadn't he? She was sure she remembered hearing that from someone or maybe from Merle himself. Surely, then, he knew how to handle situations like this. The fact that he was being condescending by telling her he wasn't going to let anything happen to her should have irritated her, but strangely enough, she found herself grateful for his words and then awestruck as she realized that he meant to protect her at his own peril. Hadn't he done that already when Morey had pointed a gun at her by stepping in front of her? Maybe Merle wasn't as selfish as she thought.

Voices drifted through the open hayloft hay elevator door and Merle instantly recognized Martinez's and Rodriguez's voices. There were two other voices he could not place but they both had thick New York accents. City boys, Merle thought. The words became clearer as the approaching men got closer. "Is it safe in here?" an unknown voice with a heavy New York accent said. "I'm still not sure if I can trust yous guys."

"And I'm not sure that I can trust you, either, but that puts us on equal footing then, doesn't it?" Martinez answered.

"I guess you've got a point there," the other man answered.

A sliding door at the back of the barn rumbled as it was pulled open and four men entered the barn.

Merle didn't care just yet if he could see them or not. He was more interested in hearing what they had to say to one another. This was obviously a meeting that had been set up, but by who? Rodriguez and Martinez were obviously there as representatives of Woodbury, but who were the other two guys?

Merle and Andrea heard footsteps below as the men made a sweep of the barn's ground floor to insure that they were alone, and then the sound of hay bales being dragged and positioned could be heard.

"Well ain't this cozy," said one of the new guys.

"Glad you think so." Martinez shot back. "So tell me, what did Dave say? Is he good with the deal the governor's offering?"

"He'd like another day to think it over." One of the strangers said. "We've been traveling on our own for quite some time, moving from state to state, town to town. He really thinks Woodbury would be a great place to stop and put down some roots. You know, start over again. He just is going to have a hard time steppin' down from being the boss of such a large group, you know?"

"The governor's in charge in Woodbury and that's how it is. The town was his brainchild and he put his idea into action and pulled us all together to make it what it is now. You won't find a safer place anywhere, but there ain't room for two kings in the kingdom if you catch my drift." Rodriguez said.

"No, I get that. Dave gets that. He just isn't convinced that your governor is as good a leader to your town as he would be, given the chance."

Rodriguez snorted.

"Give Dave another day to think about it and you two think about it as well." The stranger said. "I mean after all, if something unfortunately befell your governor, sickness, an accident, who knows what?.. Dave would come in and take over and anyone who helped assist him in getting set up as the new governor would be well rewarded, I'm sure. Position, power, nicest houses in town, women, whatever you desire. Within reason of course."

"Of course." Martinez said.

The strangers produced a bottle of Southern Comfort and discussed their groups and Woodbury as the bottle was passed between them all.

"How come there aren't any women in your group?" Rodriguez asked.

"Or old people or kids?" Martinez added. "Just twenty eight men, right? Talk about a sausage party."

One of the strangers laughed. "I'm sorry, Martinez, I didn't know you swung that way, but I'm sorry to tell you that our group is made up of completely heterosexual men. Only the strongest and the most resilient were allowed to join our group."

Martinez and Rodriguez looked at each other for a second and then Martinez laughed and said, "I don't swing that way, I just was worried for a second that we might be agreeing to take in a bunch of fags and that don't sit well with the traditional values we're tryin' to encourage in Woodbury."

"Really. Well I have to say I'm surprised and pleased." The other stranger said. "It's bad enough that Woodbury lets spicks and niggers in. If y'all were flying rainbow flags we wouldn't even consider joining up with your town."

Merle had wanted to burst out laughing and he wished he could see the look on Martinez's and Rodriquez's faces at that remark. He was sure they weren't impressed.

"You know, " Rodriguez said angrily, "Maybe inviting your group into Woodbury isn't such a good idea after all."

"Oh come on now, don't get your fajita's in a tangle, I was just messin' with you." said the stranger that had made the racist remark.

Martinez and Rodriguez grumbled a bit and then the four men decided to part ways and meet back at the barn the next day at noon for the revelation of Dave's decision.

"You all go ahead. We're gonna look around a bit here. Might be a good place to set up camp for the night." One of the strangers said.

Andrea sank back against the bale of hay behind her. She wasn't excited at all about the prospect of spending the night in a hayloft with a couple of strangers in the barn. She looked at Merle and he shrugged.

Once Rodriguez and Martinez had left the barn, the two strangers started to talk amongst themselves.

"You really want to spend the night here?"

"Nah, but if Dave decides he doesn't want to chance taking Woodbury, we could make camp here for a few days at least. Place looks deserted and I saw a couple cows wandering around. It'd be nice to have a cookout with some beef, don't you think?"

"Yeah, that would be great. We best be gettin' back. I'm anxious to see what Tony and his boys found the house that soldier told us about."

"I bet they didn't find a damned thing. The guy was delirious. Come on, a house set up in case something like people coming from back from the dead really happens? He had a fever and he was dying. Ain't no such house."

"There might be."

"Are you crazy? A house by a lake running on solar power with enough food and supplies to last years and weapons enough to arm the whole state of Georgia? Seriously, you can't believe that shit! Guy was delirious, in la la land, imagining it all. Nothing but the wishful l thinking of a dying man."

"So why would Dave even send a team out to check it out if it was bullshit?"

"Cause Dave heard some of the guys discussing it after the soldier died and figured he'd best send someone to check it out to shut everyone up. "

Merle and Andrea looked at each other, both wide-eyed. This group knew about the lake house and they were actually looking for it? That didn't sound good.

Merle heard Martinez's diesel Chevy Silverado start and then listened as the vehicle drove away. He silently placed Daryl's crossbow against the hay bale next to him and slowly brought up the Commando. The sun was setting and pink light shining through the windows bathed sections of the barn floor. Merle peeked around the stack of hay he was hiding behind and he could see the two men below.

They each sat on a bale of hay and faced each other. The older one of the two was probably in his fifties. He was tall and thin with an angular face and a large, roman nose. He had short, salt and pepper hair and was dressed in a dirty white t-shirt that said RELAX in big black letters on it and torn up blue jeans. He had just taken a drink from the bottle of Southern Comfort and handed it to his companion.

The other man was probably in his mid thirties, 'Daryl's age', Merle thought. He had pitch black hair and a mustache and a round, baby face. He was short and wore what looked to be an almost new pair of black jeans and a black 'Motley Crue' t-shirt. He took the bottle from Tall and Skinny and drank deeply from it. He had just pulled it away from his lips when two shots rang out, one after the other and matching holes appeared right above Tall and Skinny's right ear and Short and Baby Faced's left ear. They both fell to the ground, the bottle of Southern Comfort hitting the ground with a 'thud' and then rolling noisily across the barn floor, spilling the rest of its contents as it rolled along.

Andrea leaped to her feet and pushed past where Merle now stood holding the assault rifle. Smoke curled out of the end of the barrel. She looked down at the bodies on the floor below and then back at Merle. "Do you think the guys that left first might have heard that?" she asked.

"Shit, no." Merle said. "Martinez turned on the music and the AC in his truck right after he started the damned thing up. They're far enough away now that I could have let off a bomb and they wouldn't a heard it."

"Do you think this was a smart idea?" Andrea asked, starting to become agitated. "I mean, you've fixed it so that these guys obviously aren't going to be reporting back to their mighty leader, 'Dave' about this meeting! Are you trying to draw them all here? Why would you do that?! Are you crazy!?"

Merle watched her with an amused expression as she continued to go on about what a boneheaded idiot he was and why the hell didn't he think these things through? What was he thinking? And blah blah blah blah.

Andrea started to run out of steam and Merle reached out and grabbed her by her right shoulder with his left hand. She gasped and stepped away from him and his face fell. "Shit, Andi, I plumb forgot that you got shot there a little while back. I'm sorry."

Andrea raised her eyebrows. Merle was giving her that sad puppy dog look he could do so well with those damned bright blue eyes of his and she reached out and took his hand, squeezing it for just a second before releasing it. "It's okay. It surprised me more than it hurt me." she said.

"You finished readin' me the riot act?" he asked her cautiously.

"For the moment, I guess." she replied.

"Good, 'cause we need to get back down there and I'll tell ya what I have in mind."

Merle hoisted his brother's crossbow onto his shoulder with the Command and went down the ladder first. Andrea jumped off the last ladder rung and landed next to where he stood.

"You got any paper an' a pen or a pencil?" Merle asked her.

Andrea gave him a puzzled look. "There's a small message pad and a pen in the F150's glove compartment. What do you want it for? Are you going to leave a note? 'Dear Dave, Sorry I shot your guys. Sincerely, Merle Dixon'?

Merle grinned. "Close, but no cigar. I am gonna leave a note, but it ain't gonna say what you just said."

They stepped out of the barn together to retrieve the paper and the pen from the F150 and when Andrea went to hand the items over to Merle he pushed them away.

"I'm right handed and I don't write well with my left hand at all." he said. "Just write what I say, and write it like a man would, you know, sorta sloppy without any hearts dottin' the 'i's' or swirly tails on ends a some of the letters. Think you can do that, Andi?"

Andrea bit her lip. She supposed 'Andi' was a big step up from 'Sugar Tits', but she didn't like it much. "Sure. I can do that. What would you like me to write, Mr. Milton?"

Merle narrowed his eyes at her and said, "Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n." He was immensely satisfied with the look of surprise on her face. "I ain't as dumb as y'all think." he said quietly, "but we'll just let that be our little secret."

Andrea swallowed and nodded. "I never said…"

"Sure you did, but I don't care. Now write this, 'We don't want your kind in Woodbury. You've been warned,' and then place it right on top of one a them. Better yet, write two and we'll leave one on each of 'em."

Andrea was puzzled for a moment and then she smiled. "You're brilliant! Setting up a conflict between these guys and Woodbury should keep both groups preoccupied and out of our hair for a while, but I thought you had friends in Woodbury. Why would you want to do this to them?"

"The friends I have left in Woodbury can handle themselves just fine. After what the governor did to my brother, I don't owe him shit." Merle thought for a second and said, "I take that back. I _do_ owe him shit and lots and lots of it. I'll consider this a deposit on what I owe him."

Andrea wrote the notes and they left one nailed in each of the dead men's foreheads.

* * *

The sun had set when they approached their trucks and the azure blue twilight on the horizon blended to meet the darker blue-black night sky. Male fire flies had started flitting about in the fields around the barn and between the barn and the house, sending out their secret Morse code like messages to the wingless females clinging to the tall grass strands and nearby trees. Merle checked first to make sure there were no walkers or humans close by and then motioned to Andrea to follow him to the trucks. "We'll get the Bonneville tomorrow," he said to her. "Right now I just wanna get back to the house, get a nice cold beer out of the 'fridge, sit out on the deck and watch the stars come out before I go to bed."

"That sounds like a very good idea." Andrea said as she opened the door to the F150.

Merle stopped by the door of his truck. "I'm sure the group these guys were with is gonna wonder about them not comin' back. I wouldn't be surprised if they showed up here before mornin' lookin' for 'em." He looked over at Andrea and then back at the barn. "You know, I'm half inclined to stick around to see what happens. Just hide where we were and watch for 'em."

Andrea closed the door to her truck. "Fine. I'll stay here with you." She said.

"Like hell you will." Merle snapped. "Get in your truck and run along. I'll be back to the house tomorrow."

'Merle Dixon, you are not staying here alone!" Andrea said sharply. "Now either you get in your truck and we go back to the house together, or I stay here with you. Now what is it going to be?"

Merle smiled. "Shit, woman, you sound just like my Momma used to." he said. He looked back at the barn again and then sighed. "Okay, I'll go back to the house, but I wish to hell I could be a fly on the wall when the shit hits the fan here."

They both entered their vehicles and Merle's Dodge Ram followed the F150's headlights down the driveway.


	35. Chapter 35

**Warning: some smuttiness ahead. You have been warned. That is all.**

Carol was sitting on the porch of her new home as the sun set and the stars started to come out. She had met her neighbor, Karen and Karen's son, Noah, and she was still chatting with Karen when the governor came walking down the sidewalk and entered her front gate. The streetlights had come on as the sun sank in the west and several people were out for evening walks before retiring to their houses. Curfew had been bumped up to 10:00 pm, Karen had told her.

Karen saw the governor approaching, briefcase in hand and she turned to Carol. "It was so very nice to meet you, Carol and I'm going to enjoy having you for a neighbor." She took one of Carol's hands in both of hers and squeezed it. "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow."

"Thank you," Carol said with a smile. "I'm looking forward to it and thank you for your hospitality."

Karen and Noah greeted the governor as he walked up the stairs unto Carol's porch and then they retreated down the steps, across the lawn and through the gate connecting their side of the lawn with Carol's.

The governor greeted Carol with a smile. "So," he said, "What do you think?"

Carol motioned for the governor to sit down in one of the six white resin chairs on her porch. "Please, sit down." she said.

The governor sat down in the chair next to the one Carol occupied and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

Carol hadn't noticed quite how tall he was before but now she realized that he was at least 6'3.

"I was just taking my evening walk before retiring and I'm anxious to know what you think of this place and if you like the accommodations that Darla picked out for you."

Carol looked out across the well manicured front lawn illuminated by the street lights and watched the fireflies blink here and there as they made their nightly excursions around the yard. "This is a lovely home." she said. "It is nicer than anything I could have imagined. Did you know that Karen had started two gardens, one in her yard and one in this one in anticipation of someone moving in during the summer? I feel like I won the lottery!" Carol exclaimed.

The governor smiled as he placed his briefcase on his lap and opened it. "I'm glad you like it." he said as he reached into the briefcase and pulled out a small stack of papers stapled together at the left upper corner. He handed the papers to Carol. "This is for you." he said. "It's sort of like a guide or handbook for new residents."

Carol looked down at the papers. The top page had a neat drawing of the town hall on it and said "Welcome to Woodbury" on it. Below it was written, "New residents guide to our safe and friendly community".

"This guide will answer most of your questions." The governor said. "It tells about the curfew, rules and regulations, meetings and events, entertainment, and there is a map of the town showing the names and addresses of everyone living here. There are job schedules and sign up instructions as well. If you have any questions about the content, you can ask Karen about it or come down and see me."

Carol nodded. "I am very grateful to you, Governor Blake, for allowing me into Woodbury and I'll do whatever I can to be a productive member of the community." she said.

The governor smiled. "I'm sure you will be very helpful and that Woodbury will benefit greatly from your addition to our town. We're always looking for supplies, food, medicine, weapons and ammunition. If you can recall coming across any stores of any of these items recently, it would be very beneficial to the whole community." He saw Carol bite her lower lip and he smiled as he stood up. He didn't want to appear to be shaking her down for information, he'd let her think about what he'd just said and he was sure that she'd come to him on her own within the few days. The governor knew that Carol was already feeling indebted to him for Woodbury's kindness and now that she had a nice place of her own with food and water and was surrounded by seemingly friendly people, she'd be falling all over herself to tell him about where the cache of weapons, ammo and food that Merle's brother had been traveling with had come from. He was sure of it.

* * *

He was so sure of it, in fact, that he had already made a little wager with Milton. "I'll give her a week and then she'll come running to me ready to tell me everything about her former group and where they're holed up." he had boasted to his friend.

"I'll play devil's advocate and bet she won't volunteer to tell you anything. You'll have to extract the information from her, one way or another." Milton had said as he made notes on a notepad before pouring a gallon jug of a sicky sweet-smelling fluid into a clear square glass case.

"Formaldehyde?" the governor asked as he crinkled his nose and motioned towards the case.

"Yes, with my own special blend of chemicals and herb extracts mixed in. The tests I've done show that this solution preserves tissues without damaging them like straight formaldehyde does."

The governor was pleased. "Perfect! If I win our little bet, I want you to use your new solution to make up a special display case for me."

"Special in what way?" Milton asked, looking up at the governor from where he had just finished mixing his solution.

"We're going to try something new, Milton. We're going to take the head from a man who is still living while he is still alive. During the French Revolution, some scientific minded men actually studied heads after decapitation by the guillotine and found that several continued to blink or move their eyes for up to fifteen minutes after being detached from their bodies. They still showed signs of brain activity. Of course, you probably already know all about those cases, but I find them to be fascinating. Now, if we could get this man's head into your solution immediately after detaching it, you could observe it and surely it would help in your studies. Isn't that right?"

Milton sighed. "Is this head attached right now to anyone I know?"

"Merle Dixon." the governor said. "With any luck, I'll have his brother, too, so we'll have two heads." He smiled. "and you know the old saying, 'two heads are better than one'." He chuckled. "I could use them as bookends!"

"I thought you liked Merle." Milton said as he thumbed through his notes.

"I did, but he betrayed me. Betrayed the whole town. He told me that Morey had killed his brother, but now evidence found at Merle's house suggests that his brother is probably still alive and that Merle left with him to join his old group. They're probably busy plotting an invasion right this very minute."

Milton raised his eyebrows and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "But..but…didn't Merle's group leave him chained to a roof alone to die? Why would he go back to them?"

The governor looked at a photograph sitting on one of the bookshelves and he picked it up and looked at it. He brushed the fingers on his right hand lightly across the smiling face of the little girl in the photo. Her dark hair was tied back with a light blue ribbon that matched her dress. "Why would he go back?" the governor asked, "Because Daryl is his family. You'd be surprised what a man will do, what lengths he will go to and what he will endure all for the sake of his family." His eyes got a far away look in them as he held the framed photograph for another minute, and then he blinked and put it back up on the shelf. He turned to Milton with a smile and said, "If I lose the bet, what do you want from me?"

"A couple of days off." Milton said immediately. "I know my work is important to all of us, but Phillip, I really need a break. If I could just have two or three days to relax and read something frivolous or entertaining. I really need to give my mind a rest from constantly reading medical journals, chemistry formulas, chemical reaction studies and case studies."

Philip grinned. "So, my MENSA card-carrying friend. Are you telling me that your extremely large, overly developed, super intelligent and wondrously complex problem-solving brain needs a vacation? Is that what you're saying?"

Milton took his glasses off and started to clean them with the edge of his lab coat. "Yes." he said, "I guess that is what I'm saying."

The governor raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Okay. Fair enough. I might even be able to hook you up with a stack of Penthouse or Playboy magazines to encourage a different and more fun kind of studying." Phillip said.

"I only read the articles in those kinds of magazines." Milton said dryly as he placed his glasses back on his face and straightened them out.

"Of course you do." Phillip said jovially and he clapped his friend on the back. "We all do."

* * *

Rick glared at the young man cuffed to the dining room chair and then looked over at Glenn who sat on the opposite side of the table from him. Rick had asked Glenn to sit there as he was going to be asking the young man who had surrendered to them a few questions that he was sure Glenn had already asked him and if the young man gave Rick a different answer than the one he'd given Glenn, Glenn could point that out immediately.

"What's your name." Rick asked.

"Randall," the captive answered. "Randall Culver."

"How many people are in the group you're with?"

"We were a group of twenty-eight, but now with Tony and Roger gone it would be twenty-six, including me." Randall said. "Can you take these cuffs off? I'm not going anywhere and they're too tight, I think they're cutting off the circulation..."

"Shut up." Rick growled. "The assholes with you killed one of the most decent men I've ever met and right now I'm asking myself why the hell I haven't already chained you to a couple of cinder blocks and dropped you into the middle of the lake."

Randall's expression changed to one of pure terror. "But I didn't….it wasn't me!"

Rick stood up and pointed a finger into his face and snarled, "The cuffs stay put until I decided to take them off! You don't get to ask questions or make requests. You just answer my questions. You got that?!"

Randall nodded without saying a word.

Rick sat down again. "Where is your group from? The two guys we took down in the woods didn't sound like locals."

Randall looked from Glenn to Rick and back to Glenn. Glenn appeared to have a sympathetic and kind face and Randall answered the question while looking at Glenn. "Dave, the leader of our group, and six other guys are from Pennsylvania. Tony and Roger were from New York City and there's two other guys from there, too. We have a few guys from New Jersey, Rhode Island and a few guys from Chicago. Only me and two other guys are from around here."

"Keep your eyes on me," Rick warned. "I'm the one asking questions here."

Randall nodded and said, "Okay. Sorry," and turned his eyes to Rick.

"How many women and how many children in your group." Rick asked.

Randall looked at Glenn again and Rick slammed his hand down on the table, causing Randall to jerk his eyes back to Rick. "None!" he exclaimed. There are no women and no children in our group. Just men."

Rick cocked an eyebrow. "How?" he asked. "Surely some members of your group had family. Wives, children, sisters?"

Randall shrugged. "I've only been with them for a month. I was told that only men were allowed to be part of the group. Better survival chances that way. Dave said women, children and older folks were just a drain on resources and would slow us down."

Rick narrowed his eyes at Randall. "Really. So how did you end up here, at this place and why the hell did you attack us?!"

Randall bit his lip and didn't say anything and Rick stood up and moved closer to the captive. "Okay, let's try another one, shall we? Where is your group now? How far away and when will the rest be showing up here?"

"I'm not saying anything unless you give me something to eat and get these cuffs off me." Randall said defiantly. He had suddenly come to the conclusion that the group's leader wasn't going to kill him. He was the only source of information on Dave's group that he had. Randall suddenly felt a lot safer and less afraid of Rick.

"We're not giving you a damned thing." Rick snapped. "Now do you want to take a one way trip to the bottom of the lake or are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

Rick was tired and angry and wasn't in the mood for this shit, but he wasn't up to beating the hell out of Randall either. He looked over at Glenn and raised his eyebrows. Glenn looked like he was either deep in thought or trying to forcefully expel some gas caught in his colon. Glenn's face relaxed and he looked at Rick with a smile on his face. "What?" Rick asked him, expecting to be overcome by a seriously nasty odor at any second.

"I just got an idea." Glenn said and he gave Rick a small smile. "I'm positive it will work, too."

"Oh yeah?" Rick asked.

"Oh yeah." Glenn replied. "I know how we can get all the information we want out of this guy. No fuss, no muss, no problem."

Rick stood up and motioned for Glenn to follow him into the kitchen. Randall turned his head and craned his neck to watch as they left the dining room and entered the kitchen.

Rick leaned against the granite topped kitchen island and peeked over at the dining room entrance to make sure Randall was out of sight. "Okay," he said quietly. "What's your idea?"

"Just one word." Glenn said looking very pleased with himself for thinking of it. "Merle."

"Merle?" Rick asked, completely puzzled at first and then the pieces fell into place for him. "Merle." he said. Of course. Merle Dixon could be damned scary and unlike Rick, he wouldn't have any problems with how far he had to go to extract information out of someone. After all, isn't that what he had done so well in Woodbury?

Rick laughed and clapped Glenn on the shoulder. "You're a genius." he said. In the meantime, I think we should put our guest to work."

* * *

It was getting dark when Rick, Glenn and Hershel stepped outside, each with a firearm aimed at Randall as he walked along in front of them, carrying three folded lawn chairs. They passed Dale's body that Carl, Beth and Glenn had wrapped in a blue tarp from the garage after Daryl had made sure he wouldn't be coming back and then they stopped at the garage while Glenn went in and fetched a shovel. Randall was directed at gunpoint to the miniature cemetery in the upper corner of the back yard where the house's original occupants, T-Dog and Shane were buried. Glenn put the shovel down on the ground where the new grave was to be dug and then took the lawn chairs from Randall and backed away from him. The three men opened the chairs and arranged them about fifteen feet from where Randall would be working and Glenn jogged to the garage and returned with five citronella tiki torches which he set into the ground around the chairs. Rick produced a lighter and Glenn lit the torches and then settled into his chair between Hershel's and Rick's. Hershel rested his shotgun across his knees and Glenn cradled his Mossberg, ready to fire it in a second if need be. Rick kept his Colt Python in hand

"You and your friends are responsible for the senseless and unneccessary death of a well-loved member of our group and now you're going to dig his grave." Hershel said.

Randall picked up the shovel. The men that were keeping him captive were too far from him for him to be able to try to attack them with it without being shot before he got anywhere near them. He thought of downright refusing to dig, but the one that appeared to be the leader was quickly losing patience with him and the whole situation and probably would shoot him if he refused. "If I dig this hole, will you let me have something to drink and maybe a bit of food?" Randall asked. "Please?"

The young Asian man looked over at the guy in charge and the guy in charge nodded. "Sure. You do a good job and at the halfway point I'll give you a pitcher of sweet tea and bring you something good to eat."

"Okay." Randall said and he drove the shovel into the dirt not far from another relatively fresh grave. The men spoke quietly among themselves and Randall was very curious about what they were discussing. After the Asian had told the leader that he had an idea about how to get information out of him, the man had stopped asking him questions. "So," he said as he shoveled, curiosity having gotten the better of him. "What are is this "no fuss, no muss" foolproof plan you have to get me to answer your questions?"

Glenn and Rick both chuckled and Hershel smiled.

"You're kidding, right?" Glenn asked. "You won't answer our questions and you want us to answer one of yours? Seriously?"

Randall pushed the shovel into the dirt and didn't ask any more questions.

* * *

Daryl heard the bathroom door open and he closed his eyes and leaned his head back until it rested on the stone imbedded wall behind him, He heard Maggie's footsteps as she walked toward him and he mumbled, "I'm sorry. I fuckin' hate askin' you for help."

"Don't be that way." Maggie said as she approached him. "You're not feeling well, Daryl and there is absolutely nothing wrong with asking for help."

"Yeah, if you're a damned pussy." Daryl said. He kept his eyes closed and Maggie looked at him and shook her head. His breathing was shallow and fast and his face was flushed. She could see his hands were trembling and she gently took his left hand in hers and moved her fingers to his wrist to feel his pulse. It was very fast.

A smile played about Daryl's lips. "Ain't dead yet but I can tell my blood pressure's way up," he said quietly. "I'm figurin' it'll be droppin' really fast any time now."

"Then let's get you out of here and onto your bed. Now," Maggie said with urgency in her voice.

"Just calm down," Daryl said as he raised his head and opened his eyes to look at her. Her big gray-green expressive eyes were filled with worry and concern. "Don't worry, Mags. 'S all gonna be okay."

He shifted a bit and said, "Think you could just sit down on the floor with me an' wait it out?" The right side of his lips turned up in a small half-smile. "Maybe keep me from hittin' the floor an' crackin' my head open?"

"I'm not going to let that happen." Maggie said and she took a step back and yanked a towel off the hook behind the door. She opened it up all the way and moved next to Daryl and laid it on the floor against the wall. "Here we go," she said as she reached out and took Daryl's left arm.

Daryl gripped the towel secured around his waist with his right hand to keep it from falling off and leaned on Maggie as he slowly stood up and took two steps and then slowly sat down on the floor. He stretched his legs out in front of him and arranged the towel across his lap. Then he closed his eyes and leaned back until his head rested on the back wall again.

Maggie sat down next to him and leaned back against the river rock wall, too. "This floor isn't very comfortable," Maggie said and she rocked on her butt back and forth a bit to try to get more comfortable.

Daryl felt her moving and he opened his eyes and watched her for a few seconds with amusement. "Floor wan't made for sittin," he said. He reached down and scratched himself through the towel that covered him from where the line of hair trailing down from his navel started to widen to just above his knees and then leaned back again.

Maggie reached her right hand over and patted Daryl's left leg just above his knee and said, "You want me to fetch you some boxers, or are you just trying to tease me?"

"I ain't a tease." Daryl muttered and he leaned towards her and rested his head on Maggie's right shoulder.

"How are you doin', Tiger? Is your head feeling better?"

She had just gotten the words out when Daryl squeezed his eyes shut tightly as all the muscles in his body seemed to contract all at once. He sucked in a sharp breath as an intense and sudden bolt of pain exploded in his head and for a split second he felt like he had been pushed off a cliff and was falling incredibly fast. His eyes rolled back as his blood pressure plummeted and he felt Maggie's arms wrap around him, trying to ground him as she held him and spoke softly to him. He could actually feel how much she cared for him just before his brain shut down all non-essential functions and his pain and his thoughts faded and disappeared as he lost consciousness.

Maggie turned to Daryl and wrapped her arms around him when she felt his body go rigid and then shudder. "I guess that answered my question," Maggie mumbled. "Okay," she whispered, "just concentrate on your breathing. That will help you through the pain," she told him as she held him close to her. She stroked his damp hair as his head rested on her shoulder and spoke softly to him until she felt his body relax.

She continued to stroke his hair as she held him and she could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. He had known this was going to happen and that was a good thing, she supposed. If they had tried to get out to his bed, he would have passed out before they got there when his blood pressure dropped so quickly, so he had been smart to suggest sitting on the floor in the bathroom. She knew he'd come around in a minute or two when his blood pressure stabilized and then they would move out into the bedroom and they would both crawl into his bed and she would say a prayer to God asking Him to heal her Tiger and then she would hold him in her arms all night. So what if Daryl thought it was potentially dangerous. She didn't care at this point, she just wanted to be with him and to feel him next to her. They had lost Dale that day and it was just another reminder to Maggie of how short, unpredictable and precious life was. She pressed a kiss to the top of Daryl's head and whispered. "You have no idea how much I love you."

* * *

Another hour had gone by and Randall had been working at a good pace and the hole was already two feet deep. Rick had gone and gotten him a tall thermos of iced sweet tea and handed him a sleeve of stale graham crackers which he accepted almost gratefully. He had started digging again when Glenn called out that headlights could be seen near the driveway's upper gate and soon a truck was descending the driveway.

"Merle and Andrea are back." Glenn announced.

Rick and Glenn both suddenly looked at each other and Glenn could see the concern in Rick's eyes in the light the tiki torches threw off.

"Andrea." they both said at the same time.

Andrea had loved Dale like a father. They'd had their disagreements, but Dale had taken Andrea and Amy in down in Florida before the group had met each other in Atlanta and Andrea and Dale had a special father/daughter type of bond. Rick and Glenn both knew that Dale's death was going to devastate her.

"Maybe the word I thought of should have been Andrea instead of Merle." Glenn said as they heard the truck come to a stop in the driveway's parking area.

* * *

Maggie ran her fingers up and down Daryl's chest as she lay next to him. He caught her hand in his right one and then rolled onto his left side to face her in the dark. They occasionally would hear a muffled voice drift in through the window from the back yard.

Daryl wrapped his arms around Maggie and pulled her closer to him, and he kissed her cheek and then he planted kisses across her face as he worked his way over to her earlobe.

Maggie giggled. "Dammit, that tickles." she whispered.

Daryl took her earlobe between his teeth and gently pulled at it and then started to suck on it. "You know you like it," he whispered in her ear and then he ran his tongue along the edge of her ear. He took her earlobe between his teeth again and she stifled a giggle and then he attacked the sensitive skin of her neck below her ear, nipping and kissing and licking his way down to her collarbone.

Maggie moaned softly and then said, "What has gotten into you, Tiger?"

Daryl kissed his way up Maggie's neck again and then caught her mouth with his. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth and then he pulled away for a second and in low voice he said, "You, Maggie Greene, you've gotten into me." He kissed her again, roughly, almost desperately and he pushed his body against her. "Dammit, Maggie, I want you so bad."

Maggie lay facing him and ran her hands gently down his chest and then across his stomach. "I want you, too," she whispered, "More than you could possibly imagine, but you're still injured, I don't want to.."

"But? You don't really want me, do you." Daryl said, his voice filled with disappointment..

Maggie slid her right hand down further and realized that Daryl was naked under the sheet that covered them both. She fondled his erection before running her hand the length of it and Daryl sucked in a breath. Maggie felt him twitch beneath her hand.

"Yes, I want you, and I want you _right now_," Maggie hissed. "C'mon Tiger, I need you." she said and she sat up and pulled her camisole off over her head. Daryl sat up. "Think there's some condoms in the bathroom," he whispered. Maggie reached up and pulled him down on top of her, pressing her crotch against his erection. Her underpants had magically disappeared. "We don't need them. I'm on the pill." she said. She kissed Daryl and wrapped her legs around him, wiggling against him, then pulling slightly away, trying to get his erection lined up with her so he could slide right in, she wanted him so badly she ached. Then someone started pounding on the door. "Go away." she yelled as she finally felt Daryl start to enter her. The pounding continued. "Are you deaf?" she yelled as Daryl pushed in deeper. "Go away and come back later!"

Maggie's eyes flew open. Someone was pounding on the door. She rolled over and saw that Daryl was in his cotton pajama bottoms and a tank top and he had flipped on the light on the bedside table. He was limping toward the door. "Hold your damned horses." he snarled. He flung the door open and Merle popped into the room.

"Hey, baby brother. Got your crossbow for ya." he said as he looked around the room. His eyes rested on Maggie huddled under the blue quilt and he grinned. 'Did I interrupt somethin'?" he said innocently.

"Yeah, we was both sound asleep." Daryl snapped.

"Yeah, well, you're welcome, you jerk." Merle snapped back as he thrust the crossbow toward Daryl.

Daryl snatched it from Merle and then he and Maggie both froze as a terrible wailing noise pierced the air. It made the hair on the back of Daryl's neck stand up.

Merle sighed. "Goldilocks ain't takin' the loss of the ol' man very well." he said. He looked at Daryl. Daryl looked exhausted and half asleep and Merle decided that there wouldn't be any harm in waiting until morning to fill his brother in on what was going on with the group that had come looking for the house. Rick and Glenn had asked him to interrogate the kid that had been involved in the attack on the house and he was more than happy to put his expertise to use for them. The kid was still digging a hole for the old man his buddies had killed, so Merle probably wouldn't get a crack at him until morning.

"See ya in the mornin', lil' brother." Merle said and then he turned to Maggie, "And you, Spitfire" he said and he pointed his finger at her. "Don't you be wearin' my baby brother out. We got some important shit to discuss tomorrow."

Maggie blushed and Daryl told Merle to shut up, they'd just been sleeping.

"Yeah?" Merle said. "Well, sometimes dreams can plumb wear you out so you're more tired when you get up then you were when you went to bed." and he winked at Maggie.

Maggie's eyes widened and her blush spread to her whole face and her neck.

"' night, Merle," Daryl said as he slammed the bedroom door in Merle's face. He yawned and turned to where Maggie sat, red faced and raised an eyebrow. "You okay?" he asked.

Maggie swallowed. She had never been more disappointed to wake from a dream in her life. "Yeah," she said.

Daryl crawled back into bed and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. He gave Maggie a kiss on the cheek and then rolled onto his right side with his back to her. The room was quiet for a few minutes and Daryl was almost asleep again when he heard Maggie clear her throat. "Hey, Tiger." she said quietly. "Wanna fool around?"


	36. Chapter 36

Maggie immediately wished she hadn't asked that question. Maybe Daryl hadn't heard her. Maybe he was already sleeping again.

"Hmmm?" Daryl mumbled, not sure if he had heard her correctly in the foggy half asleep state he was in. He felt her hand caress his hip and then rest there as she pressed herself up close against his back and then she whispered, "Never mind."

He was too tired to press her to repeat what she had said and if she had said what he _thought _she had said, he didn't want to encourage her. What was he supposed to say? 'Yes, I'd love to fuck you silly but I don't think I can without blowing a blood vessel in my head?' Of course he wanted her, he was a man after all, and she was a beautiful woman. Hell, she was more than that, she was _his_ beautiful woman, (no, he didn't think he'd ever get used to the idea that she wanted him and that she actually wanted to be 'his woman') but with the trauma his body and his head had been subjected to lately it was simply a matter of the spirit being willing and the flesh being weak.

He briefly thought of telling her to get out of his bed and out of his room before he fell asleep again. Hershel had said that his head injuries had caused malfunctions in his autonomic nervous system which controlled his breathing, heart rate and blood pressure. This was why his blood pressure would suddenly skyrocket and then plummet. There was a potential that these malfunctions could stop his breathing or his heart for no reason at all at any time and he sure as hell didn't want to die in his sleep and then come back as a walker while Maggie was lying next to him. He mulled it over for a minute and then quietly said, "You know it ain't safe for you to be in here. You really oughta sleep somewhere else, Mags."

"I'm not leaving." Maggie said and she snuggled in closer to him.

He was wide awake now and rolled over onto his back. Maggie raised her hand slightly and let it skim over Daryl's hip as he changed his position and then she rested it on his stomach just below his navel.

"You know what your dad said about my fucked up head. What if I.."

"You won't" Maggie said before he could finish and she leaned toward him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"You don't know that for sure." he said.

She sighed and softly said, "I don't want to, but if it will make you rest easier, I'll leave; but not until you fall asleep."

Daryl grasped her left hand from off his stomach and brought it to his lips and gently kissed the top of it. "M' sorry." he said almost in a whisper, "but until your dad says there ain't no danger a' me randomly droppin' dead, I'd prefer you didn't sleep with me." He held her hand against his lips again when he had finished speaking and Maggie could feel the splits against the skin of her hand.

"Okay," she said "But like I said, I'm not leaving tonight until you fall asleep."

"What if you fall asleep before I do?" he asked.

Maggie slid her hand out of Daryl's and gently grasped his jaw and turned his face towards hers. She leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. "I doubt that will happen." she said. "But if it does, just poke me in the ribs."

Five minutes later Maggie leaned over and kissed her sleeping bedmate's cheek. She climbed out of the bed and quietly let herself out of Daryl's room, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Merle was sitting on the deck alone in one of the patio chairs. He had his booted feet propped up on the patio table and he had tilted his chair back so he was looking up at the star filled sky. He had grabbed two cold Coronas out of the refrigerator on his way out to the deck and as he tilted the bottle up and let the last bit of foam in the bottom of the first bottle slide into his mouth he mentally cursed himself for not grabbing three.

Merle leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. All hell had broken loose when he and Andrea had returned to the house.

* * *

Andrea had started to run to the gate once she had noticed that it appeared that a grave was being dug. Andrea knew that graves were only dug when a member of the group died. Walkers and enemies were burned.

Merle, with Daryl's crossbow slung over his shoulder, slammed the gate behind him as he came through it behind Andrea and quickly turned and latched it. He still had things that he needed to bring in from his truck so he didn't lock it. He figured he could lock it when the truck had been hosed off and was completely unloaded.

Glenn ran to meet Merle and Andrea as they both burst through the gate. He met Andrea halfway across the yard and opened his arms to embrace her.

"Who?!" Andrea cried out as she fell into Glenn's open arms and hugged him back. She looked over to where Rick stood near Randall. "Hershel? Dale?" Her eyes grew wider, "Daryl?!"

Glenn told her it was Dale and Merle walked by the two of them on his way to the house just as Andrea burst into tears. Merle wasn't going to hang around for the waterworks. He never could stand to see a woman cry. It made him feel either:

a. Angry, because the crying woman was either an emotional idiot and needed to suck it up OR she was an evil shrew and was using her tears to try to manipulate a man into doing her bidding.

b. Uncomfortable. He had made a few women cry in his day, women that thought they really meant something to him and claimed to care for him when all he was looking for was a piece of ass. This only happened when he foolishly allowed himself to fall into a routine with the same woman for a while. It seemed that just as he was starting to enjoy having a regular sex partner, the woman would ruin everything by trying to put a leash on him and making PLANS for them. He'd tell her he loved the sex, but he sure as hell didn't love her and then and she'd fucking cry. That would always be his cue to leave and not look back.

He looked over his shoulder and watched for a second as Andrea let Glenn lead her to where the new grave, Dale's new grave, was being dug. Andrea was still crying and Merle looked away from her and started toward the house.

"Wait, Merle!" Rick called after him.

Merle turned to look at the man that had handcuffed him to the roof in Atlanta and who he held totally responsible for the loss of his right hand. Merle set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. "What in _hell_ do you want?" he snapped.

Rick's eyes widened and he swallowed and he took a step back without realizing it. He was suddenly very aware that Merle would probably never completely forgive him for what had happened in Atlanta and to be honest, he found Merle to be very intimidating when he gave him one of his ice cold blue-eyed glares.

Merle saw Randall leaning on the shovel he'd been using to dig Dale's grave and he jerked his thumb at him, "And who the hell is that?" he demanded.

Glenn decided to intervene before things got ugly between Merle and Rick and he steered Andrea toward Rick before he released his grip on her so she could collect a hug from their leader. Glenn then turned and he stepped in front of Merle and said, "We really need your help, Merle."

Merle scoffed. "I ain't too good at diggin' holes with one hand and all if that's what you're needin' my help with."

"No," Glenn said and he grasped Merle's wrist and started to pull him toward the garage and away from Randall and the others.

Merle didn't like Glenn grabbing his wrist like that one bit and he planted his feet and didn't budge.

When Glenn looked over his shoulder to see why Merle wasn't coming along with him, Merle gave Glenn a steely glare and then looked down at where the young man's hand encircled his wrist. He cocked an eyebrow and looked from his wrist to Glenn's face again and then he stepped forward so he was face to face with Glenn. "You best be takin' your damned hand offa me, China boy."

Glenn swallowed and quickly released Merle's wrist like it was on fire and had burned his hand.

"Merle," he said, "I'm sorry, but we need your help and I really need to talk to you….privately. I need to ask you..."

"Glenn," Rick interrupted. "there's no need for secrecy. Merle," Rick said, and he pointed at Randall. "This is Randall. He showed up here with two members of his group who are now deceased. They attacked the house and one of them killed Dale."

Merle directed his glare towards Randall. "My brother okay?" he asked.

"No one else was injured." Rick answered.

Merle nodded and Rick continued. "Now Randall here, he was doing okay at first. We were asking for information about his group and he was cooperating, only now for some reason he's changed his mind and doesn't want to tell us anything else. He's suddenly become awfully tight-lipped, and that's a problem."

Merle looked Randall over and grinned a big, toothy grin. "Is that so?" he said with amusement. "I'll bet a crowbar would pry those lips apart real easy an' all kinds a information would come fallin' outta his mouth."

Randall stopped leaning on the shovel and stood up as straight and tall as he could. He tried to wipe any semblance of fear from his face but Merle could see it in his eyes for the split second that they met his before Randall looked away. Randall was already afraid of him. That was a good thing.

Randall would not allow himself to look directly at Merle after they initially locked eyes. He immediately sensed that Merle was dangerous. As dangerous as or more so as any of the members of the group he had been a part of for the last month. Randall could easily imagine Merle taking part in any of the atrocities he and his group had been involved in and enjoying it. He wondered if the man holding the gun on him and the Asian kid could see the crazy that lurked behind the one-handed man's eyes like he could.

"So you want me to get some information outta this little shit?" Merle asked Rick without taking his eyes off Randall.

"Think you can?" Rick asked, using the same tactic that the governor had used to motivate Merle before he went in to interrogate the tight-lipped prisoner that turned out to be his brother. The leader in Rick knew that by acting dubious about Merle's abilities as an extractor of information, he was actually encouraging Merle to get whatever information he could out of Randall any way he could.

Merle snorted. "'Course I can. Piece a cake." he said as he narrowed his eyes at Randall. "Just got one question."

"And what is that?" Rick asked.

"You got a limit for me in mind? 'Cause if he's a stubborn bastard, I wanna know how far I can go before I reach that point. Just in case..."

Randall bit his bottom lip. Surely they wouldn't let this brute actually _torture_ him, would they?

He already had a good idea of what Merle was capable of, but the leader seemed to be less inclined towards violence and the Asian seemed like a nice guy. The old man that had been sitting in the lawn chair with the shotgun until half an hour ago had seemed to be the nicest of all of them and he reminded Randall of his kindly and wise old grandfather. Randall was actually disappointed when the white-haired man stood up and announced that he was going to retire for the evening. The old man handed the shotgun to the Asian kid and had gone into the house after bidding them all, including Randall, good night.

"No limits. Do whatever you have to do to get the information we need." Rick told Merle.

Randall's eyes widened and he looked at the former law man. "What?"

Rick turned and glared at Randall. "Shut up and dig." he snapped. Rick then turned to Merle and said. "He's gotta finish digging this grave and then, depending on the time, I'll either come get you or you can get started in the morning"

"_What_?!" Randall asked again as he drove the shovel into the soft earth.

Merle smirked and pointed at the hole. "Might want to dig two of those," he said to Randall.

Randall stopped digging and his eyes grew wide.

"Oh, wait," Merle added, "Never mind the second grave. My bad."

Randall looked visibly relieved for a second.

That was until Merle continued, "We burn biters an' enemy combatants, we don't bury 'em." Merle nodded and patted the crossbow's strap that crossed his chest. As he turned and moved toward the house he heard Andrea questioning Glenn about the attack that had killed Dale. He saw the covered body on the porch and stopped to look at it for a couple of seconds.

Merle never cared much for Dale, but outside of being an annoying, overly righteous windbag, the man had never done him any harm. Still, one less useless mouth eating away at the group's food supply was not a bad thing. He wasn't sure if Rick was planning on feeding Randall at all, but he knew Randall was going to end up on the burn pile within the next twenty-four hours so it really didn't matter. It wasn't like there would be an extra mouth to feed for very long.

* * *

Merle stormed through the kitchen and the dining room on his way to Daryl's bedroom door. He stopped in the living room for a second to grab a few stale M & M's out of a crystal candy dish on a sofa table and popped them into his mouth after making sure that they weren't peanut M & M's. Both he and Daryl were very allergic to peanuts.

He approached Daryl's door and stood listening for almost a full minute. He could hear Daryl snoring in his quiet, Daryl way and he was just about to bang on the door and wake his ass up to give him his damned piece of crap crossbow when he heard Maggie giggle and mumble something. He listened a bit longer. Obviously, she was talking to Daryl. He heard Maggie moan and call Daryl 'Tiger' and he rolled his eyes. He would have to learn the story behind her nickname for his little brother one of these days. Then again, maybe he didn't want to know. Maggie moaned again and Merle was about to take his leave when he realized that Daryl was still snoring. He smirked and gently placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it, and then quietly and slowly pushed Daryl's bedroom door open about four inches and peeked inside the room.

Daryl was on his right side, facing away from Maggie and towards the door. Merle froze. Had Daryl seen him? Daryl was a very light sleeper and under normal circumstances a mouse fart would jolt him wide awake from a dead sleep. His head injury had changed that and once his eyes had adjusted to the dark room, Merle could see that Daryl was still asleep. Maggie moaned and pressed up against Daryl's back. Merle bit back a chuckle when she threw her arm over Daryl's hip and mumbled something in a low, almost sexy sounding voice.

Merle quietly stepped back and closed the door. He counted to five to himself and then knocked on the door. no one answered at first so he pounded harder on it. He heard Maggie loudly tell him to go away and he grinned and pounded on the door some more.

Daryl was half asleep when he opened the door and Merle presented him with his crossbow. Merle was delighted with Maggie's reaction to his teasing and he was in such a good mood that he didn't even mind when Daryl slammed the bedroom door in his face.

* * *

Merle opened the second Corona and brought the bottle to his lips. The beer wasn't nearly as cold as the first one and for a second he considered getting a cold one out of the refrigerator but he decided against it. His good mood was long gone. He had a lot on his mind now and he didn't like it one bit.

Merle had immediately figured out that Randall belonged to 'Dave's Group' and that he was one of the three that the now dead men back at the Greene's barn had said were sent out to investigate the existence of a secret military base-house a dying soldier had told them about. It existed alright, Merle thought, and it was brimming with food, weapons and more damned toilet paper than you could shake a stick at.

Merle knew Andrea had figured out Randall's tie to the men at the Greene's farm, too, and that she would be filling Rick in on the situation, unless, of course, she was just so torn up over the death of the old man that she wasn't thinking straight.

Merle decided that the house wasn't a safe haven anymore, if it ever had been one to begin with, and he was torn over what to do. His first instinct was to repack his truck, fill his tank with gas, grab Daryl and throw him into the truck cab with all his damned pussy pillows and blankies and head north. Fast. Very fast.

The encounter he hoped he had set up between Dave's group and Woodbury wouldn't last forever and whoever came out on top would eventually come looking for the house. Dave's group was already aware of its possible existence and when the three that were sent out to find it didn't return that might set off some alarms. Then again, Dave might just think that they had been caught by a Woodbury patrol after the victims in the barn had seemingly been rejected by Woodbury's representatives and killed.

Merle closed his eyes. His head was starting to hurt but he still needed to think this through.

The mouse was more than likely already in Woodbury and if she started running her mouth about the lake house, and Merle was sure she would, the governor would be sending a requisition team out to check things out before launching a full scale assault.

Merle hoped that his plan would pan out the way he hoped it would and a big, fat conflict between Woodbury and Dave's group would develop. If that happened, the lake house would probably be the last thing on the governor's or Dave's mind and the group at the house would be relatively safe, at least for a little while. Still, Merle thought, whichever group won the conflict would eventually come looking for the house. All good reasons to leave right now.

"On the other hand, ha-ha ha" he mumbled to himself. "There's ol' Darleena Dizzy Britches to think about." Merle knew it would be best for Daryl to get the rest he needed in order to heal before they headed north. He also liked the fact that Hershel was doing what he could for Daryl and the veterinarian seemed to make Daryl's recovery his priority.

Even before the dead had started to walk and search out human flesh, no one had much cared about the Dixon boys and Merle was actually grateful that now, in the worst of times, Hershel was concerned about and looking out for his little brother.

Merle took another mouthful of beer. It was starting to get quite warm and he winced. Then he snorted. Cold beer was a damned luxury now, and here he was he turning up his nose at warm beer. "Jackass", he mumbled to himself.

Merle got back to thinking and made a face as though he'd just caught wind of something that smelled really nasty.

Then there was Maggie. In Merle's opinion Maggie was dangerous. She was dangerous because it was possible, _just slightly possible_, that she had as much influence over Daryl as he did. Merle could see problems ahead if this was true.

Maggie either would not want Daryl to leave and go north or she would have Daryl talked into taking her along with them. Sure, Merle reasoned, Daryl had left Maggie behind to go look for him, but now he had been found and Daryl's ridiculous behavior after he'd saved Maggie's ass from Morey back in the Greene's barn indicated to Merle that his baby brother wasn't going to be so quick to leave Maggie's side again.

* * *

Daryl had never gotten attached to another woman after Lily and Merle had been pleased with that development. Merle had decided when he was a young boy that only men who were pussies and soft in the head would allow their mushy, disgusting "feelings" and emotions to develop and deepen. Pussy feelings were feelings of attachment, compassion, sympathy, friendship and love. Real men didn't express these feelings. Hell, in Merle Dixon's perfect world, real men didn't even _have_ these feelings. It was okay to have _manly _feelings. Manly feelings were Merle's specialty and he took great pleasure and manly pride in expressing them. They included anger, hate, disgust, indignation, loathing and lust. Merle took after his father and had easily perfected the ability to feel and express manly feelings.

Daryl was a different story. Daryl was a born pussy and it had taken a lot of effort and work on Merle's part to help Daryl develop into a manly man, a man that his last name dictated and demanded him to be.

After Bud had effectively put an end to Daryl's relationship with Lily, Daryl had become terribly depressed, but he had also grown a pair of balls and pushed down his pussy feelings and let his manly feelings take over. Merle liked that. Now it looked like Maggie was bringing all Daryl's pussy tendencies back to the surface and Merle was _not_ going to allow the repussification of Daryl Lee Dixon to happen. No siree. Merle made up his mind then. He would leave in three days and head north.

Merle watched the stars and made his plans. Tomorrow would be a busy day. He would speak to Hershel about Daryl and encourage Hershel to keep his little lovesick daughter away from Daryl for a few days so he could sleep and recover. He was also going to suggest to Hershel that keeping Daryl at least mildly sedated would be a good idea, seeing how bad his headaches were and knowing from past experience that sleep helped Daryl to recover. He'd tell Hershel about the time that Daryl crashed his motorcycle into a tree and passed out for days after walking home from the crash, still shitfaced drunk. Daryl had been fine after sleeping for three days. Well, until Merle beat his ass for wrecking his bike. He'd deserved it, though, the dumb shit.

Merle let his mind drift into the past. He recalled picking Daryl up at the hospital when he was released at the end of five days after Bud had carved him up. Daryl hadn't spoken to him all the way home and had gone straight into his room and slammed the door when they got there. Merle gave Daryl his space, but after four days of getting the silent treatment, Merle had had enough. He'd finished off a bottle of Jim Beam and six Budwiesers as she sat in front of the television in the living room on that Monday evening watching Monday Night RAW. He and Daryl always watched Monday night wrestling together while they had a couple of beers. Daryl came out of his room and walked into the kitchen without saying a word to Merle and Merle heard the refrigerator open.

"Get me another beer while you're in there and then come on out here and watch wrestlin' with me." Merle called into the kitchen. "You've gotta see this, Derle! There's this new guy, the Undertaker and he's kicking _everyone's_ ass!"

A minute later Daryl walked back through the living room and towards his room. Merle scowled when he noticed Daryl hadn't brought him a beer. "Whoa, son, looks like you forgot somethin'." Merle said as he stood up and reached out to grab Daryl's arm. Daryl stepped out of Merle's reach and continued toward his room without saying a word.

"I'm speakin' to you, Darleena." Merle snapped, "Now go get me a beer, dammit!"

Daryl didn't even turn around and Merle put his beer down on the scratched and dented coffee table in front of the sofa and lunged at Daryl, grabbing him by the back of his shirt. "You best be listenin to me boy, or I'll.." Daryl spun around and Merle blinked just before Daryl's fist collided with the left side of his lower jaw. He had seen what was happening just a split second before Daryl hit him and he blinked with disbelief.

"_Why you_.." Merle started to shout. Daryl punched him in the stomach. Merle was drunk and his reflexes were slower than they normally would have been, so when he tried to grab for Daryl, Daryl jumped back and stepped sideways, then darted forward, slamming his fist into Merle's ribs.

Merle sucked in a breath and bellowed like a wounded bull as he took a hard swing at his younger brother. Daryl jumped back and then shot forward and clobbered Merle in the face again. Merle staggered backward and Daryl hurled himself at this older brother. The impact was enough to knock Merle onto his back and he hit his head on the edge of the coffee table on the way to meet the dirty, musty and worn gray green carpet covering the living room floor. Daryl was scrambling to sit on Merle's chest and he hit Merle in the face again. The pain of the impact from both the coffee table and Daryl's fist helped to clear Merle's head rather than make him dizzy and he yelled and reached up to grab his brother around the neck.

Daryl continued to rain blows down upon Merle and Merle tried to get his hands around Daryl's throat.

Merle had found Daryl's silence through the attack to be vaguely unnerving, but now Daryl started to shout at the top of his lungs as he struck Merle. "You mother fuckin' piece of _dogshit_! We're blood! _Blood_, you asshole! You don't _betray_ yer own _blood_!" Daryl continued to yell as he reamed on Merle. _"I fuckin' hate you! I hate you! _ Why didn't you tell me?" He was screaming now, "_Why?!_ You_ stupid, cruel son of a bitch_! I'm your _fuckin' brother_!"

Merle brought his fist back and hit Daryl as hard as he could on the right side of his face. The impact snapped Daryl's head to the left but he recovered quickly and answered Merle's shot with another one of his own.

Merle's nose was bleeding and he was sure Daryl had broken it. His eyes were starting to swell closed and Daryl's last hit to his face had almost knocked him out. Daryl grabbed Merle's forearms and held his arms to Merle's side and then moved so his knees pinned Merle's arms to the floor. Merle blinked as his younger brother leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. Daryl's eyes were narrowed and his face was a blood spattered contorted picture of pure rage. He pinned Merle with an ice cold blue steely gaze as he pulled his lips back into an animal like snarl. Merle felt himself shudder. Daryl looked like a sweaty, hungry, wild, rabid wolf ready to rip out his throat and Merle realized with surprise that the strange and uncomfortable feeling he was experiencing right then was fear.

"You'd a been kinder just to let 'im kill me." Daryl snarled. Merle noticed the tears then. Daryl wiped his eyes with one of his hands and then stood up, freeing Merle. "Just stay the _hell _away from me." he said and Merle heard his brother's voice break. "_Fuckin' bastard_."

Merle watched wordlessly as Daryl stalked off to his room wiping the tears from his eyes. He sat up and was hit with a spell of dizziness. What the hell had just happened? Daryl had just kicked his ass, that's what had happened. Yup, his baby brother had just kicked his big tough Merle Dixon unkickable ass and then scurried off to his room to cry like a little girl. Merle didn't think that he had ever felt so humiliated.

* * *

Merle sighed. No, he couldn't allow his brother to get all pussified by the spitfire. He knew exactly how he could prevent that from happening and he was damned well going to put his plan into action.

Merle finished the beer and wiped his brow. Shit, it was hot. Things usually cooled off a bit in the evening once the sun went down but not tonight. It was at least ten degrees hotter than it had been a couple of hours earlier, Merle was sure of it. He leaned back in his chair and rested his head, then he closed his eyes and listened. After a few seconds he zeroed in on the noise being made by one particular nearby cricket and he mentally began to count.

* * *

Daryl had come home from school once all excited and blabbering about crickets and some kind of bear and a law and when Merle had finally cuffed the kid, he had quieted down and caught his breath and then explained to Merle how he could tell what the temperature was outside just by listening to cricket chirps. Merle had thought he was full of shit and didn't want to hear any more of the crackpot theories his stupid little brother was being taught at school until Daryl had bet Merle that he could tell him what the temperature was within four degrees just by listening to the crickets.

Merle snorted. "What you got to bet?"

"All the money I got in my bicycle fund." Daryl said.

"How much is that?" Merle asked. He knew Daryl had been mowing lawns and doing odd jobs here and there when he could and was trying to save enough money to buy a bicycle of his own. At the rate he was going, Merle figured that by the time he'd saved up enough money for the bike, he'd probably be in the market for one of them old-people Rascal scooter things.

"Ten dollars an' forty eight cents." Daryl said immediately.

"Okay, and if I lose, I pay you five." Merle said.

"You know I'm right." Daryl said and he grinned.

Merle huffed. "Like hell you are."

"Then match my bet." Daryl said.

"I ain't matchin' your bet on somethin' stupid as this." Merle griped.

"Chicken." Daryl taunted. "Bock, bock bock, Merle's a big ol' chicken."

Merle grabbed Daryl by his shirt collar. "Now you cut that out, ya little shit!" he snarled.

Daryl smiled. "I'll cut it out if you'll bet me ten dollars."

Merle sighed and released his little brother. "How old are you now?" he asked.

"Ten." Daryl said.

"You wanna live ta be eleven?" Merle asked.

Daryl said he did, but that unless Merle coughed up ten dollars on this bet, he was just going to have to conclude that Merle was a big ol' chicken.

Half an hour later Merle was handing over a ten dollar bill to his little brother. He went on to use the information he'd learned from Daryl to fleece several of his friends by betting them that he could tell them what the temperature was within four degrees by asking the crickets.

* * *

Rick came out onto the porch and approached Merle. He was holding a bottle of Coors beer in each hand and Merle moved his gaze from the sky above him to the tired looking man walking towards him.

"You got the captive in his cell for the night?" Merle asked.

Rick stopped at the table and put a bottle of beer down in front of Merle next to the one he'd just emptied. "Yup."

Merle nodded toward the beer. "That for me?" he asked, never taking his eyes from Rick.

Rick met his gaze. "Yup."

Merle nodded and reached for the beer. He held the neck of it in the hollow of his palm and twisted the top off with his thumb and index finger.

"Mind if I sit down?" Rick asked.

Merle snorted. "Why you askin' me? Ain't my house."

Rick sat down and opened his own beer. "Andrea tells me that you met up with a couple other guys from the group our captive was running with." he said.

"Please tell me she didn't tell you that in front a the guy." Merle said.

Rick shook his head. "She waited until we'd secured him for the night and then told me and Glenn. So what are your thoughts, do you think they'll try to attack us?"

Merle laughed. "What, you want my opinion?" He pointed at the beer Rick was just bringing to his lips. "That ain't your first one, is it?" he asked. "You gotta be half in the bag to be wantin' my opinion."

"No. Not yet anyway, but I do want to know what you think."

Merle leaned forward. "Okay, here it is then. I think we should get the hell out of here as soon as we can. Head north. Once the governor finds out about this place, and we can't be sure that the runaway mouse hasn't already filled him in about it, he's gonna be sending a team out to check the place out. If he likes what he sees, and he will, he will plan and execute an attack. That's what he does."

Rick leaned back in his chair. "Glenn and Beth are going to be on watch tonight. We need to decide whether to stay or run. This place has food, electricity, weapons. I really hate to leave it all. I'm thinking that maybe we can cut off all access. Block the Forest Lake Road with vehicles, downed trees, maybe blow up the road in a few places. That is if we decided to stay."

"I can see where it might be hard to leave this behind." Merle said.

"Andrea told us about what you did at the farm. The idea with the notes was brilliant. I'm hoping your plan works and that Woodbury and Randall's group will keep each other busy at least for a few days."

Rick and Merle talked for a few more minutes and Rick gave some specific questions to Merle that he wanted him to ask Randall. Before they both stood up to go inside, Merle asked about executing Randall when he was done with him.

"Change of plans on that." Rick said as he pushed the chair he'd just vacated back in next to the table.

Merle was surprised. "You gonna let him go?" he asked.

Rick's answer surprised Merle even more.

"No. Andrea wants to execute him."

**Sorry about the delay but I am working working working overtime all the time! I have money now, but I have no life. Oh well. I'm sorry it is taking me so long to post chapters. Yes, I suck. Sorry.**


	37. Chapter 37

After he and Rick finished their conversation on the deck, Merle went into the kitchen and tossed a couple of Pop Tarts into the toaster. Two wasn't going to cut it and he took two more of the pastries and grabbed a clean plate out of the dish rack. He threw the two Pop Tarts into the microwave and waited for them to heat up while the other two in the toaster turned a deeper golden brown. The microwaved dinged at the same time the toaster expelled the pop tarts and Merle pulled the hot plate from the microwave. "Ow, ow, ow " he muttered as the quickly placed the hot plate on the counter and then he repeated the phrase under his breath as he grabbed the pop tarts one by one out of the toaster and piled them on top of the two on the plate. He pushed to pop tarts to one side of the plate and then he dumped a pile of sour pickle slices from a jar in the refrigerator on the other half of the plate.

Carl came wandering into the kitchen just as Merle closed the refrigerator door after putting the pickles away.

"Something smells yummy." he said and he peeked around Merle to see what was responsible for the pleasant odor.

"'S my dinner." Merle growled. "Din't your mom already feed ya yours?"

Carl saw the pile of pickles next to the pop tarts as Merle reached for his plate and he made a face. "Gross!" Carl exclaimed. "Pickles with pop tarts? That is _so _disgusting!"

Merle snorted and he looked truly offended. "Is not! Now this here is a perfectly balanced meal," he told Carl. "You got your sugary sweet Pop Tarts with strawberry fillin', see? There's your fruit and your sour salty pickles which is a vegetable."

"What about the meat and dairy groups?" Carl asked. "Where are they in this perfectly balanced meal?"

Merle narrowed his eyes at the little shit. "The meat, or protein part a this meal is all them little tiny worms and fly larvae that's more 'n likely been cooked inta the Pop Tarts. The flour they use in them big Pop Tart factories is full a bug eggs an' mealy worms an' stuff. "

Carl eyed Merle warily. "I don't believe you." he said defiantly.

"Well hell, son, I don't give a flying fart if you believe me or not. Don't make it any less true. Oh, an' speakin' a bugs, did you know that lots a stuff you eat that's red gets its red color from dried, ground up beetles? Jell-O, Strawberry Quik, them juice boxes, some flavors of ice cream, all sorts a shit."

Carl didn't know whether Merle was kidding with him or not. He hoped so. "I don't believe that either," he said. "I think you're full of shit."

Merle snorted and said, "Okay, okay, think what you want. I'm gonna enjoy my ground up beetle and bug egg, wormy, pink frosted Pop Tarts and my pickles. Mmm.. mmm..MM Mm," and he took a big bite out of one of the Pop Tarts. He swallowed and grinned at Carl, then patted his belly and said, "Crunchy, insecty goodness."

Carl looked at Merle doubtfully and Merle broke off a piece of pop tart and sandwiched it between two pickle slices. "Look," he said to Carl holding up his creation. "A bite sized pickle-bug tart sandwich!" and he popped it into his mouth.

Carl shook his head and quickly left the kitchen. "Hey!" Merle called after him. "Come back here! We haven't discussed the dairy group and then I was gonna tell you 'bout what hot dogs an' sausage is made of!"

"I'm not listening!" Carl hollered from the dining room as he made his escape from the disgusting redneck.

"Pig lips, testicles, eyeballs an' tails, cow udders an' noses and a lot of other stuff!" Merle shouted after him.

Merle finished his meal in peace and then made his way to his temporary quarters in the den on third floor. He turned down his bed and then made his way down to the bathroom where he finished up his bedtime routine. Merle always brushed his teeth before he went to bed. It was a habit.

_When Merle was about four years old, his Uncle Jesse's wife, Aunt Pricilla, died and Uncle Jesse suddenly began showing up every night at about supper time. Momma would invite Uncle Jesse to eat with them and Merle could remember how Uncle Jesse would scarf down food like he hadn't eaten for days. He'd eat with his mouth full and slobber and belch and Merle found the man and his bad manners to be fascinating. One evening Uncle Jess had finished wolfing down a large piece of chocolate cake after dinner and then, to little Merle's amazement, he popped his teeth out of his mouth and started licking them off. Merle watched with a combination of amusement and horror and then looked at his mother with a wide eyed questioning look on his face. That night Momma had reminded Merle to brush his teeth before bed and added, "or your teeth will rot and fall out of your head and you'll end up with false teeth like Uncle Jesse." _

_Little Merle had asked how come Uncle Jesse's teeth didn't grow back. After all, he'd lost several teeth and they had all been replaced by larger ones that Momma said were 'permanent teeth'._

_"The good Lord only gives you two for each spot and then he sometimes throws a few extras in towards the back," she'd told him. Merle sucked his lips in over his teeth and opened and closed his mouth, trying to imagine what it would be like to have no teeth. _

_"How did Uncle Jesse lose his teeth?" he asked._

_"He lost his teeth 'cause he never took care of 'em. Never bushed 'em, never flossed, used 'em to pop caps off beer bottles and for all sorts of horrible things. They rotted right out of his head. His false teeth don't fit him right either. If you don't brush your teeth," she warned, "that will happen to you, too." _

Merle made an effort to brush his teeth on a daily basis if he could ever since that day. He sure as hell wasn't going to end up sitting toothless at a table somday licking off his dentures, that was for damned sure.

Merle finished up in the bathroom and made his way back to 'his' room. He saw Maggie slip into the war room as he exited the bathroom and he wondered if she'd finally decided to give his brother a break and leave him the hell alone for a while. Didn't she know that Daryl needed his rest and that with her hanging around him all the damned time, it was probably next to impossible for him to get any?

Merle entered his room and closed the door and then opened a window, partially for air circulation but mainly so he could better hear if any disturbance occurred outside. It took him a few minutes to get situated in the sofa bed and as he had suspected, it was very comfortable. He closed his eyes and started to mull over the day so he could push all the thoughts from his head before he settled in to sleep. It was a good day overall. He had Daryl back, he'd set up a mess for Woodbury and he had controlled his temper quite well. He missed his little house, but it was more important to be with Daryl and soon they would both be headed north to Maine. Leaving Woodbury was inevitable. His main objective now was keeping Daryl and himself alive and doing whatever he could to help Daryl to get better so they could leave before the governor or Dave's group converged on the house.

Merle failed at clearing his mind and fell asleep while making plans in his head to patrol the area near the end of Forest Lake Road. He would do it stealthy on foot and then he would do what he had to do to block off access to the house from potential intruders. He hadn't been asleep for more than five minutes when there was a knock on his door.

Merle was a light sleeper unless he was drunk and at the sound of the knocking he immediately woke. His eyes flew open and he looked over towards the door. Who the hell wanted to see him at this time of night? The spitfire? He didn't say anything, hoping that whoever was at the door would realize that he was _trying_ to _fucking sleep_ and give up and go away. The knock came again and again he ignored it. He heard the doorknob turn and a quiet creaking noise as the heavy wooden door was pushed open and then someone stepped into his room.

"Merle?" said Andrea's voice quietly. "Are you awake?"

The light in the hallway had been switched off and Merle's room was equally dark. Merle propped himself up on his elbow and raised his eyebrows. This was an unexpected surprise.

"What you doin' in here, Goldilocks?" he said.

Andrea put her hands out in front of her to keep her from running into any furniture as she made her way towards Merle's voice. She stopped when her legs bumped against the side of the sofa bed and she sat down on the edge of it next to Merle's legs.

"Well?" Merle asked. He heard Andrea take a deep breath and then choke back a sob. Crap. Sugar Tits was still boo-hooing over the old man and was looking to him now for what? Comfort?

He sat up and tentatively reached out and patted her shoulder. "Um….I.. uhhh…" Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the room as well as they could he could see her outline as Andrea turned toward him. "I…."

Andrea sniffed. "You what?" she asked with a broken voice.

Merle tried again. "Uh…I…I." He rolled his eyes. He sounded like a damned idiot. "I just….Shit!" he exclaimed and he clapped her on the shoulder. "I just ain't good at this sympathy stuff! Dammit!"

Andrea didn't say anything, just continued to quietly sob and Merle fidgeted. He fucking hated being around crying women. He absolutely _hated_ it. Why the hell was she there? Glenn was probably an expert on dealing with emotional touchy feely situations. Why couldn't she go and bug him? "What the fuck do you want me ta say?" he snapped.

Andrea was quiet for a moment, then she rubbed her eyes and then reached out and put a hand on Merle's blanket covered leg. "I don't want you to say anything," she said. "I just…I don't want to be alone tonight and I was wondering…I was wondering if you would just…maybe…just hold me?"

Merle blinked. She wanted him to do what?

Andrea didn't wait for an answer. She stood and felt her way to the head of the sofa bed and then pulled the blanket back.

Merle scooted over closer to the center of the bed to give her room, still hardly believing that she was there in the room, let alone getting into bed with him.

Andrea climbed into the bed and turned so she was facing Merle. She detected the faint aroma of his Old Spice deodorant and she moved in closer until she figured that they were just about face to face. The mint toothpaste smell of Merle's breath indicated that she had figured correctly.

Merle was now wondering to himself if maybe he just wasn't dreaming this sequence of events.

"Please?" Andrea asked tearfully. "Just for a few minutes?"

Merle sighed. "Okay," he said and he reached out toward the dark outline of her head and cupped her face with his left hand. His thumb brushed away the tears on her cheek. "But I ain't no good at this sort a shit."

Andrea moved in closer and Merle took his hand from her cheek and slowly wrapped his arms around her as she curled up against him, resting her head on his chest. He ran his left hand up and down her back in an effort to be comforting as she quietly cried. Merle slowly laid back until his head reached his pillow, pulling Andrea down with him.

"I'm losing everyone I care about." she said and she sniffed. "Dale saved me and Amy. He didn't know us at all and he took us in, said we could stay with him in his RV and that he would keep us safe. I owe him my life and lately I hadn't talked much with him at all. I'd been so mad at him for such a long time and why? Because he stopped me from killing myself and he didn't think I should be allowed to have a gun." She sniffed again. "He was just trying to protect me! I'm such a fool."

Merle rolled his eyes and hoped she wasn't going to talk all night. He just wasn't good at this comfort thing. Hell, he was having a hard enough time trying to be a better brother to Daryl. Did he really need to be playing the part of Andrea's wailing wall?

"You're such a good brother to Daryl now." she said and wiped her eyes. "And I was such an awful sister to Amy. I wasn't there for her for so many years. Now she's gone and I'll never be able to tell her how sorry I am and how much I love her. I'll never be able to tell Dale I'm sorry for being a jerk to him and how much I appreciated him." She wrapped both of her arms around Merle and clung to him. Merle held her and ran his hand through her hair.

"Shhhh…you best stop dwellin' on that shit. Amy knew you loved her and you an' her were company to the old man so he wan't alone when all this biter shit was startin'." He cleared his throat. Damn, this was awkward. "They're gone now. They're dead and unlike most a the folks dyin' these days, they ain't comin' back. They're lucky in that respect. You, though, you're alive."

Andrea took a deep breath. Merle was right. He was pretty lousy at comforting people. If anything, he'd just made her feel worse.

"Thing is, you're mopin' around like you was dead, too, and you gotta stop it. Your sister and the old man wouldn't want you doin' that shit. Stop actin' dead, Andi. You're alive, so _don't act fuckin' dead_. You only got one life so dont be wastin' it. Be alive!" Merle sighed. God, what he just said was so damned stupid.

Andrea pulled away from Merle and sat up. She wiped her eyes again and pondered what Merle had just said. He was right. Amy and Dale were gone. Hopefully, they were at peace. They no longer had to worry about the perils of this new world and struggling to survive. She was alive, though, with no guarantees that she would be the next night. Life was hard now, it was dangerous and scary but it was better than death. She had wanted death at the CDC and now she wanted life. She wanted to wring all she could out of it. She wanted to _feel_ _alive_. She turned and looked down at Merle where he was lying next to her and she could have sworn she saw his eyes looking up at her in the darkness. She tossed her leg over him and all but threw herself down on top of him, planting her hands on his shoulders. She was now sitting on him and looking down at him.

Merle wasn't quite sure what had just happened. Andrea was sitting on his stomach and leaning forward with both hands on his shoulders as if she thought she was pinning him down in some half-assed TV wrestling move.

"What the hell do you..." he started. Andrea's lips crashed into his and effectively shut him up.

* * *

Dave and his men arrived at the Greene's barn at a little after one in the morning. The discovery of their two dead group members complete with messages nailed to their foreheads did nothing to improve the shitty mood Dave was in already because of the disappearance of Tony, Roger and Randall. Now he concluded that the asshole governor at Woodbury had decided to take him and his whole group out and that he was more than likely responsible for the failure of Tony and the other two to return.

Tony had been a friend and partner in crime to Dave for many years and his probable loss did not sit well with Dave.

"Pull the bodies out next to the barn. The roamers can eat 'em." he said to the other men in his group. "And let's check out the farmhouse. No lights on or nothin'. looks empty so we'll go in easy, make sure it's clear and we can stay in there tonight. Tomorrow we'll make one more pass in the direction Tony headed and then we'll come back here and make plans to hit Woodbury."

The men in the group all murmured in agreement and Dave took one more look at the two dead men on the floor before walking out of the barn and towards the farmhouse.

* * *

It wasn't quite 2:00 in the morning when a nightmare pulled Daryl from sleep.

In his dream, the governor had come to the lake house in the middle of the night as the group slept and he had attacked them. There were screams and cries as the unprepared members of the group were gunned down and Daryl had stayed in the shadows, avoiding the enemy and moving undetected as he searched for Maggie. He mumbled in his sleep as he searched for her in his dream. He found her out near the grave he'd dug in the meadow. She was safe and sound and she reached out and embraced him. He was so relieved that she was okay. He had grabbed her hand and turned to head for the cover of the woods when the governor jumped up out of the hole Daryl had dug, holding one of Daryl's Blackhawks in each of his hands.

Daryl pushed Maggie behind him as he turned to face the governor and the Blackhawks roared. His heart felt like it was exploding as the bullets from his own guns ripped through his chest and he sank to his knees. He heard Maggie screaming and the governor laughing He fell forward into the tall grass and darkness closed in on him. As he died in his dream with the sound of Maggie's screams fading to silence he was jolted awake.

He sat up quickly, sweat droplets clinging to his forehead and stinging the burns on the back of his neck. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer in his chest and he was embarrassed and glad he was alone when he realized he was actually trembling. Daryl took a deep breath and slowly moved to the edge of his bed and sat up. He was still trembling and he wiped his brow with a shaky hand. "Just a dream, you fuckin' pussy," he muttered to himself. "Get a grip." He swung his legs over and off the bed and put his feet on the ground. He winced when a bolt of pain shot up his leg from his right ankle and he shifted his weight so he wasn't bearing much of it on his bad ankle.

Daryl slowly stood up and after taking a deep breath and convincing himself that he didn't need any pain medication just then, he slowly made his way to the door that opened onto the porch. He opened the door as quietly as he could and stumbled to the rocking chair next to the bench on the porch. He eased himself down into it and leaned back. That had been quite the damned shitty dream he decided.

He watched the stars as he tried to decide what the best course of action would be to deal with a run in with the nutcase that called himself the governor. The group would either have to fortify the house against an assault and prepare to defend it while being incredibly outnumbered or they would have to leave and head north before they came under attack. He rocked slowly back and forth in the chair as he considered the possibilities.

His head started to ache and he wasn't sure if it was due to his head injuries or from thinking too much. He closed his eyes and listened to the quiet and oddly soothing creaking of the rocking chair as he slowly rocked back and forth. He fell asleep thinking about Maine and the house that he hoped was waiting for them there.


	38. Chapter 38

**I started writing Exile a year ago today. Wow, time flies. Another year older and another bazillion brain cells gone. Okay probably not, but sometimes it feels that way. I have a ton of reading to catch up on and more writing to do. I'm going to cut the overtime so I can write more. This is a rather short and action free chapter, but I'll make it up to you soon. **

Andrea pressed her lips harder against Merle's and dug her fingers into the top of his shoulders as her tongue demanded entrance into Merle's mouth. Merle pulled her down against him and kissed her roughly as his hand slid down her back and then cupped her ass. He was pleasantly surprised when he didn't encounter any panties. He gave her butt a squeeze and wished to hell he still had both hands. Andrea responded by pressing her hips against his body and grinding them into him. Merle uttered a short gasp of surprise and Andrea smiled to herself for eliciting such a response from him. Merle wrapped his legs around Andrea's and pushed back against her as he kneaded her ass with his left hand. He pulled his mouth away from hers and whispered into her ear. "You best stop right now if you ain't plannin' on finishin' what you started." he warned.

Andrea found his mouth again and kissed him hungrily as she snaked a hand down between their bodies and fondled Merle. She was surprised and somewhat impressed with what her hand encountered.

Merle moaned and squeezed Andrea's ass again as he felt his body responding to her touch and his cock went from semi hard to rock hard.

Andrea felt Merle growing harder in her hand and she kissed him deeper and then took his bottom lip between her teeth and gently pulled on it. When she released his lip, Merle kissed her and then ran his tongue across her face and then down her neck, stopping every so often to kiss and lick her soft and sweetly scented skin.

Andrea felt the rough stubble on his face scratch against her skin and a little moan escaped her. She slid both her hands onto Merle's chest and then moved them up to Merle's shoulders and using them for leverage, she pulled herself up and out of his embrace. She sat up, straddling him and looked down at him in the dark with a smile on her face. She could barely make out his features in the darkness and he couldn't see the amused look on her face.

"Well shit," Merle mumbled and he dropped his arms to his side. Was she just teasing him? Seriously? Dammit!

Andrea leaned back. "Merle," she whispered. "I have to tell you something."

Merle groaned. "Right now?" he whispered and Andrea could hear the disappointment in his voice. "'Cause I don't think this is a very good time to be startn' up a conversation…."

Andrea wiggled against Merle and pressed herself against him firmly. "I just want to tell you that I was wrong."

"About what?" Merle asked, genuinely curious but still sounding somewhat disappointed.

"I was wrong…...," Andrea said and she leaned down to kiss him firmly on the mouth and then she sat up again. "..to call you Stubby."

Merle snorted and grinned. "Shit, darlin'. I coulda told ya that," he said and he thrust his hips up against her. "Now come on…"

"Less talk and more action?" Andrea whispered.

"See how amazin' you are, woman? You jes' read my mind." Merle told Andrea as he pulled her down against him with his arms and then rolled them both over. He propped himself up on his forearms so all of his weight wouldn't be on her and he kissed her and then breathing heavily, he whispered into her ear. "I'm drivin' tonight, darlin' but don't you worry your pretty little head none, 'cause I'm takin' the scenic route and we're goin' nice an' slow."

Andrea giggled and she closed her eyes. For some reason she had felt compelled to approach Merle Dixon for comfort after lying miserable and alone, crying in her bed that night. She questioned the sanity of her actions as she'd entered his room in the dark but now she really _did_ feel better. He was big and strong and his body felt so nice next to hers. Andrea had a hunch that in a little while Merle Dixon would have her feeling better than she had in a long time.

* * *

_Glenn had discovered the door that opened up into the attic cut into the ceiling of one of the med room closets on the day that Daryl had left the house. Glenn hadn't bothered to consult Rick, he had excitedly but cautiously climbed the pull down stairs to investigate._

_As Glenn stepped off the last ladder step and into the attic and notice that there was not much space for storage and what was stored there appeared to be normal attic type stuff. Boxes of Christmas decorations, old bicycles, a couple of trunks with pillows and blankets in them and two large contractor bags with fabric remnants in them and masking tape labels proclaiming"quilting materials – not trash" stood against one of the walls. More than half of the attic was blocked off with a wall made of incredibly strong metal mesh. A sliding metal door had been built into the middle of the wall and it was chained shut and secured with six combination locks. The ductwork and the wiring behind the metal barrier wall was visible and Rick had said that the well protected electrical and heating/cooling components probably either kept the war room and the rooms off of it running on a separate system than the rest of the house or was a back up system for the most important rooms in the house._

_Glenn had found a small trap door installed in the attic ceiling and he had pulled the step ladder hidden in the attic corner over beneath it. He had climbed the ladder and found that the metal door was locked with a series of sliding bolts. Once he had opened the door and pulled himself up and through it, he had found himself in an 8' x 8' sunken lookout area built into the roof. The solar panels built into the roof surrounded it and the one's directly around it were eight inches higher than the edge of the 4' walls of the lookout platform, concealing it from anyone who happened to look up onto the roof. There was a hydraulic turret set up in each of the corners, two with folding seats and the capacity to be quickly fit with big heavy artillery guns._

This platform was where they kept watch now. The person or couple on night watch donned night vision goggles and sat in the turrets equipped with the seats and then set the height level. The pistons raised the seats up to the level they'd indicated and the seats pivoted so it was easy to look up the driveway to the gate, into the woods and out across the lake. Rick hadn't given the okay yet to arm the turrets with some of the big guns in the war room yet and Glenn decided that he'd best be reminding him.

Glenn had never had any time alone with Beth and he was surprised at how different she was than he had expected. He had always thought she was a bit shy and not much of a talker.

Wow, had he been wrong on both counts there.

Beth had talked through the night with him, never running out of things to say and never acting shy or awkward. They both had to remind each other on occasion to speak quietly as they conversed. Glenn found her to be interesting, compassionate, funny and very observant.

"Do you think Rick will tell Merle to kill Randall after he's questioned him?" Beth asked.

Glenn said that he was quite sure that Randall was living on borrowed time now.

"I'm not sure how I feel about that." Beth said, "but his group is obviously dangerous. I feel just awful about poor Dale."

"I don't know how I feel about killing Randall, either." Glenn admitted. "But you're right about his group being dangerous. And for the record, its probably safe to say that we all feel awful about losing Dale."

Beth sighed. "I guess we'll just have to trust whatever decision Rick makes," she said. She folded her arms in front of her. "I feel sorry for Rick sometimes, and all the responsibility he has to shoulder. Don't you?"

"No, not really." Glenn said. "He was a law officer and you can tell he was a born leader. Even Shane stepped down and let Rick lead when he showed up."

Beth nodded. They spoke a bit more about Rick's miraculous return from the dead then Beth surprised Glenn by asking him how he was doing since his break up with Maggie and if it was hard for him now that Daryl was back to see Daryl and Maggie together.

Glenn confided in her that it still was a bit hard for him, but that he knew that Daryl and Maggie hadn't _planned_ to get emotionally involved, it had just sort of happened. It helped, too, that Daryl was so awkward and uncomfortable expressing any emotion in front of other members of the group. Except for anger. Daryl was a pro at expressing anger and he didn't hesitate to express it in front of anyone and everyone.

Beth had giggled at that and told Glenn that when she'd first met Daryl she thought he was crude, rude, mean and disgusting. "He was usually filthy and he always looked like he was mad about something," she said. "He didn't talk much and when he did what came out of his mouth usually wasn't very nice."

"Yeah, but none of us treated him any too well, either." Glenn said. "I guess we mostly just ignored him." He thought for a moment then smiled. "He took me hunting with him once. He tried to reach me some basics. You know that look he has…that glare..that makes you feel like you're just a second from being gutted with that hunting knife of his? I saw that look many times that day. I just had a lot of questions and apparently rule number one in the woods is 'no talking'."

Beth leaned back against one of the turrets. She was going to remind Glenn that the hunting knife he was referring to now belonged to her sister, but unlike the Dixon boys, her brain usually had a tight rein on her mouth and the words were forgotten almost as soon as she'd thought of them.

The conversation eventually turned to Merle. "I think he's a gross, disgusting pig and a jerk." Beth said, making sure to keep her voice down. After all, they _were_ on _watch_. "But I also think he's brave and strong and smarter than anyone gives him credit for. He saved my life and Carl's, too." She looked out into the woods and continued. "You know, after all the things I'd heard about him, I was really scared of him when he first showed up, but now…. Let's just say that I'm not afraid of him anymore. I guess you could say that my feelings about Merle Dixon have done a complete turn around."

Glenn nodded and smiled sheepishly. "It's kind of funny," he said. "I never in a million years thought I would say this, but I actually like Merle. Can you believe that? I mean, I still think he's plenty scary and I think he likes us all to think that. He's gruff and rude and yeah, he's a racist jerk, but I think he's trying to...whats the word I'm looking for…._behave_…he's trying to behave. I think he's doing his best to get along with everyone and I think it's for Daryl's sake. I thought for sure he was going to rip Rick right in half when they started fighting. I think he toned it down because he wants to be here with Daryl."

They talked about the Dixon brother for a bit longer and then Beth said she found it interesting that Andrea appeared to be attracted and repelled by Merle at the same time. "I saw her look at him as they passed each other in the living room." she said, "Talk about your sultry stare."

Glenn put his hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. "Seriously?" he asked with amusement. "I don't think Andrea would touch Merle with a ten foot pole."

"Oh, I don't know." Beth said. "Next time they're around each other watch them for a minute or two. You'll see what I mean."

"I think you've read one too many Harlequin Romances." said Glenn.

Beth scowled at him. "I have not, and don't start making fun of me because I like to read romance novels. Some of them are actually quite good."

Glenn raised his eyebrows. "I guess if you like soft porn," he said.

"Don't be a pig, Glenn." Beth scolded. "The stories I read have sex in them as an expression of love and romance. It isn't like the casual dirty sex stuff in those girly magazines you and your kind like to drool over."

"Me and my kind? And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Beth glared at him. "You, Rick, Merle, Daryl. Your kind. In psychology class we learned that all you men with your dirty minds think about sex every eight minutes. It's disgusting. How do you ever get anything done?"

Glenn burst into laughter and slapped his hands over his mouth to hold down the noise he was making. He recovered from his laughing fit quickly and took a deep breath. He was definitely going to change the subject.

Beth beat him to it. "I think it's nice that Lori and Rick are trying to patch things up and start over." she said. Glenn agreed and they talked at length about Lori and Rick and Carl. Glenn brought up Carl's obvious crush on Beth and she blushed and said she had no idea what Glenn was talking about. She said that she and Carl were good friends and for heaven's sake, Carl was four years younger than she was!

The time flew as they talked about their favorite TV shows, what subjects they liked best in school, their pets, what authors they both liked, and soon daylight began to touch the horizon in the east and the dark sky gradually started to lighten. A rosy pinkish purple glow painted the edges of the trees and changed to a deep orangey pink and then to a lighter pink as the sky welcomed the arrival of old Sol. At 5:45 Glenn and Beth crept quietly through the trap door on the roof down into the attic and then down the folding attic stairs into one of the closets in the med room. They quietly made their way down to the first floor, both stifling giggles when they passed by Carl's room and a long, muffled honklike noise came from behind his door.

Glenn turned to Beth, a huge grin on his face. "It sounds like Carl just stepped on a duck," he whispered and Beth threw her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud and hurried down the hall with Glenn right behind her.

They stopped in the kitchen and made two cups of coffee, one for each of them. "Why are we doing this?" Glenn asked as he poured some creamer into his cup of coffee. "I'm going to go to bed and hopefully I'll get a few hours of sleep. Coffee is probably the last thing I need right now."

Glenn yawned. It was a now a little after six in the morning and he and Beth had been on watch duty since eleven the night before.

Rick had come up onto the platform on the roof to relieve them at three a.m. but they had shooed him away and said they were fine and that he should go get some sleep

Glenn took a sip from his mug as he stepped out the kitchen door and onto the porch.

"Are you tired?" Beth asked him as she followed him out onto the porch.

Glenn stopped short and quickly brought his finger to his lips as he turned to Beth. "Shhhhh…" he hissed and he pointed his finger to the left. Beth turned and followed his finger with her eyes until she saw what had caught Glenn's attention.

Daryl was slouched down in the rocking chair, his head bent to his right and resting on the chair's wooden armrest. His arms dangled from the sides of the chair and his fingertips brushed the porch floor. He was wearing cotton pajama bottoms and a sheet was thrown over his bare chest. He appeared to be sound asleep.

Beth stifled a giggle and turned to Glenn. "Daryl looks like he's wearing a toga...and how on earth can he sleep in that uncomfortable position? His neck is bent like a pretzel and he's almost on the floor." she whispered to him.

Glenn shrugged. "Merle says Dixons can sleep anywhere and at any time. I know for a fact that Daryl and Merle slept in trees often to avoid walkers before they joined up with our group in Atlanta."

Merle yawned and walked out onto the back porch with a cup of coffee in his hand. "So," he said as he stretched and he grinned at Glenn and Beth as they both turned to look at him. "Lovely mornin' ain't it?"

Glenn thought Merle looked well rested, relaxed and way too smug.

Merle took another sip of his coffee. "Shit, that's hot!" he exclaimed. He took another sip and then looked from Glenn to Beth and said "As soon as I finish my coffee, school will be in session and we'll see just how much our friend Randall knows. Y'all wanna come and help?"

"Sure!" Glenn said excitedly.

Beth looked at Glenn and shook her head. "No, I need to get to bed and I'm just not into whatever it is you guys are going to be doing."

"It's a dog eat dog world, darlin'." Merle said. "and don't you never forget that." He turned to Glenn as Beth retreated into the house. "You sure you wanna do this? 'Cause once I get started, there ain't no 'time outs' when things get down and dirty. You understand me, son?"

Glenn nodded.

Merle chugged down the rest of his coffee as Glenn tipped his mug back and the two men finished their caffeine laden drinks at the same time. Merle wiped his mouth on his arm then pointed to the garage. "There's a few things in there I got to prepare. Tools can be persuasive things. I've seen them loosen a lot a tongues before." he said and he turned and headed toward he garage.

Glenn followed along behind him like a playful puppy romping after his master.


	39. Chapter 39

Carol walked out onto the porch with a cup of coffee. She placed it on a small wicker side table and sat down on the cushioned wicker loveseat next to it. She leaned towards the wicker table and brought her legs up onto the love seat's cushion and curled them beneath her. The seat was comfortable, the birds were singing and the sun was peeking over the horizon like a big bald head and Carol smiled to herself. She liked where she was. She liked what she had seen and she liked everyone she'd met in Woodbury so far. She took a sip of her coffee and made a face. She had found a jar of instant coffee creamer in one of the kitchen cupboards and apparently she hadn't used enough of the stuff to take off the coffee's bitter edge. She watched the sun rise as the sky around it changed from a deep,brilliant pink to a more muted pink-tinged yellow.

She felt safe and happy and she thought about how nice it would be if a few of the group members now camped out at the lake house on Mirror Lake would move to Woodbury. Carol decided that she would love to have Hershel, Beth and Dale for neighbors.

The rest of the group could rot in hell for all she cared. Yes, even Carl Grimes. He might only be a child, but he was not worthy of becoming a citizen of Woodbury. Carol had never forgotten how Carl had mocked her for saying Sophia was in heaven so soon after Sophia had died. Telling herself that Sophia was in heaven was a way of coping with the tragic loss of her daughter. Carol could just imagine her Sophia up in the clouds, serenely looking down at her as she went about her day. That rotten, disrespectful Grimes brat had shattered her fragile illusion and she despised him for it. She remembered how hurtful his words had been. He'd called her an idiot. Not directly, but by saying that anyone who believed in heaven was an idiot. She remembered telling Lori that she needed to teach her son to show some respect.

"Good morning." a voice said, pulling her from her brooding thoughts. Carol looked up at the man strolling up her walkway towards her porch.

"Good morning." Carol replied as she watched the bespectacled man make his way up the steps and onto the porch.

He stopped in front of her and then bent and extended his hand. "I'm Milton Mamet," he said as he took the hand she offered and shook it gently, but firmly.

"Oh..." Carol replied with a smile. "The governor said you were doing some work that I would find interesting."

"Yes," Milton agreed. "I hope I'm not stopping in too early, but I saw you were already up and I wanted to invite you to accompany me to my laboratory in the municipal records annex. That way I could explain to you what we're working on and show you what we've accomplished so far. It is truly exciting! Unless, of course, you have other plans this morning?"

"No, I have no other plans and yes, I would love to accompany you to your lab." Carol said as she placed her coffee cup back on the wicker side table and stood.

Milton was going to tell the woman that he was sorry for the loss of her daughter but decided it was best not to bring up that painful subject so soon after meeting her and instead asked her if she had slept well as they descended the porch steps.

"Oh, yes, very well." Carol replied. "Better than I have in weeks."

"The governor will be happy to hear that." Milton said. "He takes a personal interest in the acclimation and comfort of all new residents of Woodbury."

"He seems to be a very caring and compassionate man." Carol said. "I'm hoping I can repay his kindness in some small way."

They walked in silence for a minute and then Carol said, "If a scavenging party from Woodbury found a group of people set up somewhere nearby with supplies, what would happen?"

Milton stopped walking and looked at Carol. He hoped he didn't look as nervous as he suddenly felt. "Whatever do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, what would happen? Would the Woodbury party try to make contact with the other people right then and ask the group if they would like to trade some supplies? Would they ask the group to join them here in Woodbury? Would they come back and gather reinforcement and then attack the other group and take what they want? I'm just curious." Carol explained.

Milton felt his cheeks getting hot and for a second he was tempted to say. 'The answer is 'c'. Gather reinforcements and take what we want,' but he was a smart man and had learned to control his tongue as a child which had not only kept him out of trouble for the most part, but had made him the governor's friend and confidante. "If our scouting parties find a group, we invite them to join us at Woodbury. Growth is good for our town."

"What if the group does not want to become a part of Woodbury? What happens then?" Carol asked.

Milton shrugged. "I don't know. So far, none of the groups we've encountered have ever declined our offer."

Carol smiled. "Of course not." she said as they began walking again. "Why would they? There is safety in numbers and to me Woodbury represents the way things used to be. It is so nice to see children playing outside and people going about their business unafraid. This really is an amazing and wonderful place and I think anyone would be crazy not to accept an invitation to live here."

Milton bit his bottom lip and they continued their walk towards the municipal building and his laboratory. It looked like he was going to lose his bet with the governor after all.

* * *

"Good mornin', sunshine." Merle said jovially as he finished strapping the bayonet prosthesis to his right arm. He crouched down in front of where Randall sat on the cold cement floor with his back against a metal pole in the garage bathroom. Randal was chained to the pole with two large iron rings embedded in the cement floor on either side of it and Merle wondered if the pole and rings had been installed there originally for a purpose such as this. Merle smiled when he noticed a small panel cut into the ceiling by the pole. He'd have to check out whatever secret room was up there when he was done with Randall.

"What time is it?" Randall asked wearily. There were no windows in the room and everything around him appeared in shades of gray and shadows. He had slept very little if at all and the room reeked of diesel fuel and Lysol cleaner, a combination that he found to be nearly nauseating.

"What time is it?" Merle boomed. "It's time to answer some questions, that's what time it is!"

Randall shifted and shrank back against the pole.

"Where are you and your group stayin'?" Merle asked.

"I don't know where my group is, but I'm right here." Randall said. He yelped as Merle's fist crashed into his nose and a loud 'crack' resonated in the room. Randall's eyes grew wide as blood gushed from his nose and he turned his head to wipe it on the shoulder of his shirt.

"Wrong answer and I ain't got no tolerance for smart asses this mornin', so let's try that again. Where is your group stayin'?"

Randall swallowed and looked at Merle and then at Glenn. Merle had a gleam in his eye that told Randall that he enjoyed this sort of thing, whereas the young Asian man looked very uneasy and like he was not having fun at all. Randall directed his answer at Glenn. "I really don't know. We're constantly on the move."

Merle hit Randall in the stomach and Randall groaned and bent forward as far as the chains would allow. He tried to move his hands to cover his stomach but the chains clamped around his wrists and attached to the rings in the floor were too short.

"Strike two," Merle barked. "an' I'm askin' the questions here, boy, so you direct your answers to me."

Randall raised his head and looked straight at Glenn. "Please help me." he said. "I can tell you don't think..."

Merle swung his fist and it connected with Randall's right temple with a heavy, dull thud, violently snapping Randall's head to the left. Merle followed through and then swung his fist back, crashing into the left side of Randall's jaw and his head snapped back to the right.

Glenn bit his lower lip. He had known that Merle was going to do what he had to do to get information out of Randall, and he understood the necessity of Merle's brutality and had expected it, but now he wondered if he had been wrong in thinking that he could watch and learn from and maybe even help Merle. Randall's pleading directly with him had unnerved him a bit as well.

"Uh…Merle?" he said timidly as Merle took a step back and rubbed is hand against his shirt, his eyes never leaving Randall.

"Yeah?" Merle answered. "You wanna get some licks in, too?"

Glenn swallowed. Merle was going to think he was the world's biggest wuss and would be totally disgusted with him, but dammit, he just wasn't cut out for this interrogation shit and he didn't want to stand there and watch Merle torture Randall. Why the hell had he offered to come with Merle in the first place? "I don't think I'm going to be much help here," Glenn stammered, "so if you don't mind, I'm going to go into the house. I mean…if that's okay with you."

Merle chuckled and waved his hand at Glenn like he was shooing away a fly. "Yup, you go on ahead and get in the house, Hop Sing. If you wanna make yourself useful I got some laundry that needs doin', some socks that need darnin'."

Glenn's face flushed red and he looked at Randall again.

Randall's eyes had gotten wide and he looked downright terrified. "You're not gonna leave me alone with him are you?" he cried. "He'll kill me if you leave."

Merle turned quickly and punched Randall in the stomach again. "Shut the fuck up unless you're answerin' one a my questions! If I wanted ta kill you it wouldn't matter to me if he was here or not." He kicked Randall in his right knee. "I ain't gonna kill you. 'Course, by the time I'm done with you, you might wish you was dead."

Glenn opened his mouth to say something and then changed his mind.

Merle looked over at Glenn and motioned toward the door with his head. "Go on, then," he said gruffly, "get your pussy self outta here."

"Right…." Glenn mumbled as he turned and hurried towards the door.

"Wait!" Randall cried.

Glenn didn't stop or turn to look at Randall. He opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Merle waited until Glenn had left the garage and then he turned back to Randall.

"Where was your group camped when you attacked this house?" Merle asked. He stepped in closer to Randall and grabbed his head by the hair and slammed it back against the pole before bringing up the bayonet attached to his right arm and placing the blade against Randall's head behind his left ear.

"Hold up…Before you answer that, I got a different question."

Randall could feel the cold steel of the blade against the side of his head and the upper part of his left ear and he shivered involuntarily. "O….okay," he said nervously.

Merle grinned. "You ever hear of Vincent Van Gogh?" he asked.

Randall swallowed and was silent. Merle scowled and moved the bayonet slightly so it nicked the top of Randall's ear. Randall gasped and flinched causing the blade cut deeper. Pearls of blood formed along the fresh cut. "Yes, yes, I've heard of Vincent Van Gogh!" he yelled, trying to keep his head still as the blood started to run down behind and into his ear.

"Then you know what I'm gonna do to your ear if you don't answer my fuckin' question!" Merle shouted. "Now where was your group stayin' yesterday? Dammit!"

Randall took a deep breath. "We were at the Flat Creek Country Club right outside of Peachtree City. We were there for almost….about a week. We found canned food there and there were a lot of vehicles with gas in them and.."

Merle pulled the bayonet away from Randall's ear as he grabbed Randall around his throat with his left hand and squeezed as he pushed him hard against the pole he was sitting against.

"Why ain't your group still there an' what did you do to the people that were already hunkered down here?" Merle asked. "And don't you _dare_ try to tell me there weren't no one there when you showed up! Now tell me! What did you do?"

"They...they attacked us first!" Randall wheezed.

Merle released his grip on Randall's throat so he could breathe. As long as he kept talking, Merle didn't have a problem with giving him some slack. It also tended to give the person being interrogated a false hope that Merle might show some compassion and ease up a bit.

Randall coughed and took a couple of deep breaths before continuing, "Dave went in with…with Tony to see if we could set up an….an arrangement to, you know…share supplies."

"Uh huh. How many people were in that group?" Merle demanded. "Before your group killed them all?"

Randall jerked his eyes up and met Merle's steely blue ones and blurted, "How did you..." before he snapped his mouth shut.

Merle laughed. "Shit son, I ain't stupid and I'll let you in on a little secret,"

Randall kept his mouth shut and the grin on Merle's face disappeared and he bent down and put his head next to Randall's bloody ear as though he was going to tell him a secret and whispered. "You ain't the first member of a group of renegade scavengers to be put in a room with me for questionin'." He stepped back away from Randall and started to pace in front of his captive. "You see, Bub, I know how groups like yours operate. Y'all find a place where another group is hunkered down and you go in an' bullshit 'em with promises of workin' and livin' together, sharin' supplies, all that happy horseshit. They are so fuckin' glad to see a friendly group that they think will help 'em that they let down their guard, let y'all in an' quick as a wink, you slaughter 'em all. Ain't that right?"

Merle saw the guilt in Randall's eyes and he smirked and the prisoner dropped his eyes. Merle stepped back and grinned again as he looked Randall over. Hell, he hadn't even begun to hurt this kid. "You're the lucky winner, though, boy, 'cause you're the very first renegade scavenger that's gonna come outta one a ol' Merle's Q & A session alive." He stepped in closer and crouched down in front of Randall and brought his left hand up in front of Randall's face. He raised two fingers together and touching in a parody of a Boy Scout salute. "I promise you, here an' now, on my honor an' all that shit, that I ain't gonna kill ya."

Randall didn't believe Merle and looked at him suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

Merle shrugged. "Guess I'm a sadistic bastard," he said. "Maybe I think that you knowin' I ain't gonna kill you will make you more determined to keep your mouth shut. That, in turn, enables me to push the limits on how far I can go to hurt your worthless ass without actually killin' you. Hell, I ain't even warmed up yet."

Randall squeezed his eyes closed and wished he was anywhere but sitting there in front of Merle Dixon.

"Or," Merle continued, "could be that someone else called dibs on endin' your pathetic life."

Randall's eyes flew open and he looked up at Merle. "But I didn't hurt anybody!" he protested.

Merle snorted and his fist darted in and collided with Randall's face, then he drew his fist back and hit him again even harder.

Randall burst into tears.

This sudden show of wussiness surprised and totally disgusted Merle. "Stop bawlin' ya big baby." he snapped. "Now how many people were already at this country club when you guys showed up?" Merle asked as he pointed his bayonet directly at Randall's left tear filled eye.

"I don't know." Randall sobbed. "Probably twenty two or twenty three. There was about ten men the rest were women and kids."

"And when did you and the shit-stains you were runnin' with leave there an' why?"

Randall sniffed and looked down at his right hand and spread his fingers out as he pressed his palm against the cool cement floor. He didn't begin to answer soon enough for Merle and unfortunately, Merle had just run out of patience.

Merle's booted foot crashed down on Randall's hand and Randall screamed as several bones in his hand and his fingers snapped. Merle quickly brought his foot up and then brought it down as hard as he could on Randall's hand again. He leaned and shifted his weight so that all one hundred seventy five pounds of his weight rested on Randall's now broken hand.

Randall continued to scream and Merle slammed his fist into the side of Randall's head, once, twice and then three times. Randall's screams quieted to a low wail.

Merle rubbed his blood and saliva coated hand on his shirt. He had cut his knuckles on Randall's teeth and broken a piece off one of them that was now partially imbedded in the thin skin between Merle's index and middle finger. "Fuck!" he shouted and he shook his hand vigorously trying to dislodge the jagged piece of tooth.

Randall slumped forward. Blood leaked from both sides of his mouth and mucus and blood oozed from his nose. His breath hitched as he quietly cried.

"Shit son, grow some fuckin' balls!" Merle snarled, his voice filled with disgust. "I'm done warmin' up now and ready to get down to business."

Randall sobbed harder as he realized that Merle had been telling him the truth when told him that by the time he got done with him, Randall would wish he was dead.

* * *

As the antique pendulum clock on the governor's office wall struck 8:00 a.m. the governor sat back in his comfortable leather chair. Martinez was pacing back and forth in front of the governor's desk as he laid out his case.

Rodriguez was seated next to the chair Martinez had vacated to pace and he leaned forward in his chair and listened intently to what his brother-in-law was saying.

Martinez was attempting to convince the governor that the group of men they had come across two days before were a threat to Woodbury's structured and peaceful way of life and should not be allowed to enter their town. "Like I said before" Martinez said as he stopped in front of the desk and faced the governor. "I don't think that their leader…what's his name…"

"Dave." Rodriguez volunteered.

"Yeah, Dave." Martinez said, "I don't think that Dave or his group can be trusted. One of his 'ambassadors' indicated in our meeting yesterday that Dave would want to step up and take over if something happened to you. He also indicated that anyone who helped them out when Dave took over would be well rewarded."

The governor raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?" he asked with amusement in his voice.

"Yeah," Rodriguez confirmed.

The governor smiled. "This Dave sounds like an ambitious bastard."

"This just stinks to high heaven." Martinez continued. "No women or children and one of the fools we met with said only the best and strongest men were allowed to join their group." He snorted. "Which was funny 'cause neither of them was any Arnold Schwarzenegger."

"We can use all the manpower we can get," the governor said, "but I trust your instincts. You've never let me down, Martinez, but let's think about it. Don't you think we could keep an eye on their group when they arrive and maintain control of them? I'm betting that once some of the men in the group get a taste of the normalcy and peacefulness Woodbury offers, I'll win their allegiance. Surely some of those men are experienced and would be very useful on our requisition teams.

Martinez sighed. "All of that is true, but I don't think it's worth the risk. We were told by the guys we met with that Dave is under the impression that if given the chance, he'd be a better leader for Woodbury than you are."

The governor scowled. "This Dave isn't only ambitious, it appear that he's also an ignorant fool and a trouble maker. Not a good combination." He tapped the pen in his hand on his desk and was silent for a moment.

Martinez quietly remained standing and waited for the governor to speak again.

The governor sighed. "You're right, Caesar. Of course you're right. We don't need any more run ins with troublemakers here. We've had our fill of them this week alone." he said. "You said they appeared to be well armed?"

Martinez nodded.

"And you're to meet them later this afternoon to find out what their decision is about joining us?

"Yes." Martinez said.

"Okay. To hell with their decision, I've made a new one of my own. I want both of you to take Shumpert, Jackson and anyone else you need with you and eliminate that group."

"Yes, governor." Martinez and Rodriguez said at the same time, the relief in Martinez's voice apparent.

"Good. I appreciate your service to me and to our town. Now unless you gentlemen have any questions, this meeting is over," the governor said as he reached for a paper filled ringed binder on his desk.

Rodriguez stood up and started to follow Martinez to the door.

"By the way," the governor added and Martinez and Rodriguez both stopped and turned to face their leader.

"If you are able to and it isn't too much trouble, bring Dave back here to me alive."

Martinez grinned. "With pleasure." he said.

Rodriguez nodded his agreement and both men left the room.

The governor smiled and opened the three ring binder. He picked up a pen sitting on his desk and began to write.

**Hooray! I no longer have to work overtime all the damned time! Less money, yes, but more sanity. Hopefully, I can catch up on some of my favorite fan fiction stories and start writing on a more regular basis. I've missed you guys. **


End file.
